


I can't go to sleep (unless you're laying next to me)

by partialresonance



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Agoraphobia, Armitage Hux Needs A Hug, Disordered Eating, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gingerpilot, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I have fun with droidspeak, I take what I want from TRoS and leave the rest, M/M, Mental Health Issues, No Plot/Plotless, Oral Sex, Panic Attacks, Paranoia, Somewhat lazy worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:01:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22857418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/partialresonance/pseuds/partialresonance
Summary: After Snoke's death and the defection of both Armitage Hux and Ben Solo, the First Order and the Resistance have combined into an interim government. For his crimes against the Hosnian System, Hux is imprisoned on a Resistance base, working in an engineering/design capacity for his once-enemies. Poe Dameron notices that Hux could use a friend, and he quickly falls in love with the former General.
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Armitage Hux
Comments: 114
Kudos: 260





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Consider this an unplotted, drabbles fic. I will work towards some kind of resolution but I promise nothing else. Simply gingerpilot. All of the gingerpilot.
> 
> Unbetad.

Poe lounged in the doorway in his orange flight suit, arms crossed over his chest, feet crossed at the ankle, a curious little grin on his face.

He watched as Hux bent over the workbench, injured leg stuck out to one side. He was intensely focused on his datapad and a blueprint spread out on the table which was littered with mechanical odds and ends.

Apparently, the former First Order general had quite the background in engineering, which had come in handy in recent weeks.

Poe shrugged one shoulder, working out a kink in the muscle. He’d spent the last several hours in his cockpit, running escort routes for the interim government that had flourished in the wake of the First Order’s—usurpation?

Rey and Ben and Leia thought of it as their redemption, but Poe wasn’t quite there yet.

He was suspicious of it all: taking the First Order, its structure and its people, and turning it to what he thought of as ‘the good side’. He’d rather just hop in his x-wing and blow something up but after the whole debacle over Crait, with Holdo’s sacrifice and losing the transports, Poe had learned that maybe he didn’t have the healthiest idea of how to solve problems.

He saw the error in his thinking, he really did, but that didn’t mean he was committed to any other course of action than the one he’d known all his life.

And Hux, oh, Hux—what a conundrum he represented.

Poe ran his thumb and index finger over his mouth, trying to smooth out the smile.

He didn’t know why he found the former general so endearing.

Sure, at first he’d been nothing more than pleasantly shocked when the man risked his life to allow Poe and Finn to escape. When he revealed that, like Kylo—Ben, Poe had to remember to call him Ben now—he had reservations about the direction the First Order had taken under Snoke. But Hux had turned spy not because he thought that the First Order was _wrong_. He still didn’t think that. He’d fed information to the Resistance because he didn’t want to see Ben take the helm as leader.

It was so hilariously petty, Poe just had to know more. Someone that ridiculous could never have made it to high command, right?

And here he was, stoically working away long into the night, as if he actually cared whether the Resistance/interim government (they didn’t exactly have a name yet and that had become sort of a problem but that was above his pay grade) had whatever latest doohickey the man who designed Starkiller could cobble together while locked in his prison/fabrication lab.

It was just _funny._

“Knock knock,” Poe said finally, after determining that Hux wasn’t going to say anything. He didn’t even look like he’d noticed Poe standing there.

The other man didn’t pause, didn’t look up from his work.

“What do you want, Dameron?”

Poe suppressed a chuckle at the way Hux managed to inflict magnitudes of distaste in those few words.

“Just checking to see if you’ve had dinner yet.”

“I’m busy. Go away.”

“That’s not an answer.”

Poe pushed off from the wall and strode over to the workbench, bracing his hands on the edge of the table and leaning over to scan the blueprint. He couldn’t make heads or tails of it, really. His mechanical expertise began and ended with the inner workings of a few different models of light fighters and this didn’t look like anything he was familiar with.

Besides, he’d always been better with his hands and the thing in front of him, not these weird diagrams that looked so divorced from the real thing.

“Whatcha workin’ on?”

Hux grumbled something under his breath. Poe waited.

“If you really must know, ask your princess,” he finally snapped. Poe chuckled.

“We don’t really call her that anymore, you know.”

Hux’s upper lip curled and Poe imagined all of the nasty things running through his head. He was surprised none of them made it out of his mouth, though. Instead Hux fell silent, staring intently down at his datapad. Poe was treated to a view of the top of his head, that strange red hair vibrant in the harsh overhead lights.

Poe had never really seen someone with Hux’s complexion before. It wasn’t common in his part of the galaxy.

Hux’s spy escape plan apparently hadn’t included enough time to grab his haircare products because instead of being slicked back his hair was loose, almost fluffy, and Poe noticed that he had to keep pushing back a fall of bangs that was long enough to obscure his vision but not quite long enough to tuck behind an ear with quick, irritated swipes.

Poe chuckled again. The poor guy was so uptight that even his own _hair_ disobeying his every whim seemed to throw him off.

“If you’ve just come here to laugh at me, Dameron, I’ll hit you with my cane.”

Hux’s inflection didn’t change—it was dry and snide, but that _had_ to be a joke, right? Poe laughed anyway. Hux whipped his head around to glare at him and Poe backed away, holding up both hands.

“Sorry, sorry,” he said, huffing out a few more quiet laughs. “Listen, just hang tight, alright? I’ll be back with some grub.”

Hux’s protests chased him out of the room.

Poe grabbed a few ready-made meals from the cafeteria, and heated them up while mulling over what he should bring Hux to drink. The guy looked exhausted, so caf might be in order, but if Poe could swing it he wanted to coax Hux to actually _sleep._

He couldn’t help it. Hux had been there, working for them, long enough that Poe saw him as he would any other teammate who clearly wasn’t taking care of himself properly and it was his duty to step in—probably one of the only unproblematic manifestations of his hero complex.

In the end he decided on water and a thermos of tea. He didn’t know why; Hux just seemed like a tea sort of person.

Hux seemed surprised when he returned. He set aside the datapad with a suspicious glance at the food that Poe put in front of him, blocking his view of the blueprint. Hux scowled.

“What?” Poe asked, genuinely curious. “You don’t like it?”

“It’s fine,” Hux snapped. Still, he ignored the food, reaching for the tea instead.

Poe set his own plate down and sat on the other side of the table, immediately digging in. He was starving.

After a minute he saw that Hux still wasn’t eating and he sighed, setting down his fork.

“Look, buddy, I didn’t want to say anything but? You’re looking a little rough.” He gestured to Hux. Just, all of him. Skinny, pale (paler than usual), bags under his eyes. Hux made an offended little huffing sound through his nose. He was holding on to the mug of tea, having poured some from the thermos but Poe didn’t think he’d actually taken a drink yet.

“So what is it?”

“I’m not hungry. I’m waiting for you to leave. You’re insufferable and pushy and there’s nothing I can do to force you out without compromising what little freedom I have here so I must simply weather your company until you decide you’re finished with me.” Hux sneered while he spoke, emotion thick in his voice. He was an intense guy. Poe tilted his head, considering him.

An idea struck him. Poe reached out with his fork, speared a bit of meat from Hux’s plate, and popped it into his mouth. While Hux was sitting there looking shocked he also took the thermos and poured himself a cup of tea and immediately took a sip.

“There,” he said, smug and chipper at once. “Now you know it’s safe.”

Hux gave him a look. A long, long look. Without saying anything he slowly began to eat, taking careful, measured bites. Poe’s smile stretched from ear to ear.

“So that _was_ the problem! You know, I feel like I shouldn’t have to say this, but I’m not gonna poison you.”

“Hmm.” Hux was picking up speed, eating like he hadn’t seen food in days.

“Was that a problem, in the First Order? Potential poisonings?” Poe was mostly joking, but Hux looked up at him with a sudden, feral grin that made Poe’s smile fade.

“It’s how my father died.” Hux went back to eating.

“…Oh.” Poe had no idea what to say to that. To his utter surprise, after a moment Hux continued.

“But to answer your question, no. I never felt in danger of poisoning or assassination as a member of the First Order. It’s the motives of rebel terrorists like you and your compatriots that I question. I hold no illusions about my status here.”

“And what’s that?”

“I am on probation,” Hux said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “My life is forfeit. I must continually prove myself useful to your organization. The moment that my use has run out, I will be put on trial and most likely executed.”

Poe blinked, fork frozen halfway to his mouth.

“You don’t really think that,” he said, while knowing it was true. No wonder Hux wasn’t eating or sleeping. He thought he was already a dead man.

“I don’t think it,” Hux agreed. “I know it. A poisoning would perhaps be a kindness, rather than letting me drag on here. Languish. Putting me through an extended trial, dangling hope before me and then snatching it away. I know your type, Dameron. You would take it upon yourself to save me from such a fate.”

“I would not!” Poe sputtered, before realizing the convoluted way Hux had put it. “I wouldn’t poison you,” he clarified.

“Hmm.” Hux seemed unconvinced, but he kept eating anyway, presumably because Poe hadn’t descended into fits or started clutching at his throat yet.

“Who told you there’d be a trial?” Poe’s own meal was abandoned in front of him; he couldn’t really focus on it at the moment.

“No one. I presume this is how the remnants of the New Republic still function. Unless I am to be summarily executed? Perhaps by Ren’s scavenger?” Hux smiled again. Poe thought that Hux smiled at the oddest times. “She hates me. Even more than Ren.”

“Uh. Wow. Okay, there’s a lot to unpack there.” Poe crossed his arms on the table, leaning forward. “First off, if anyone did want to execute you there’d definitely be a trial first. But I think we’re all kinda busy at the moment with the whole…new government thing.” Poe waved a hand.

“Ah, yes. Your ‘interim’ rule.” Hux had also put down his fork, only about half the meal eaten. “How long do you think it will be before the in-fighting begins? A few more weeks? Months, at most?”

Poe was beginning to see that that sneer was a more-or-less permanent part of Hux’s features.

“Progress will slow, then halt. Some will argue that things ran more smoothly under the First Order. Others—perhaps the majority—will demand a public reminder of exactly how horrible we were. They’ll trot out the man who ordered the death of a star system. Five inhabited planets gone in an instant. ‘This is the price of order!’ They’ll say. ‘Do you remember now what we’ve always fought against?’ I suppose I should be so happy to leave such a legacy on the galaxy, even if it ends with my head rolling on the floor of whatever passes for a judiciary body in your mongrel government!”

Hux was nearly shouting by the end.

Poe bore it stoically, listening. Something about Hux’s voice, his passion, captured his attention in a way little else outside of a battle simulation or actual combat could. Hux’s mind was…something else.

“Do not sit there looking so shocked! Do not pretend you don’t want me dead as well. One life is nothing balanced against the billions I slaughtered in cold blood. Just admit it.” There was a note of tired pleading in the last, as if Hux’s energy had been sapped by his previous rant, leaving him looking down at the plate of food like it had transformed into something grotesque.

“Actually, I don’t,” Poe said quietly. He shook his head. “What you did was…awful. Inexcusable. Unforgivable.”

Hux sneered, looking vindicated.

“But I don’t want you _dead._ Maybe I would have, a few months ago, but people like Rose and Leia and Rey showed me how empty that line of thinking was.” He shook his head again. “Killing you wouldn’t bring back everyone who died when you fired Starkiller.”

“So what would you prefer? Lifelong imprisonment? Torture?”

Hux said it abrasively, as if he’d run out of patience with Poe’s stupidity, but underneath it all Poe sensed the fragility of someone whose mind had run wild with these possibilities for weeks with no relief. He felt a deep pang of sorrow for the man across from him.

“Hugs,” he said quietly, eyebrows drawn together in sympathy. Hux turned his head slightly, so he was looking at Poe with a suspicious side gaze.

“Stop looking at me like that!”

Poe held his gaze for a beat longer, then relented, smiling and shaking his head as he looked down at the table and went back to his dinner, thinking over everything Hux had said. After a few minutes he glanced up again. Hux hadn’t gone back to eating but he was sipping at the tea and looking pensively at the far wall of his workshop.

“You really think Rey hates you that much?”

“Rey.” Hux repeated the name softly, with an odd expression. Then he seemed to shake himself a bit, focusing on Poe. “The girl? Oh yes. FN-2187 has made sure of that.”

“Finn? What does he have to do with anything?”

Hux waved a hand dismissively. When he answered he sounded bored, long-suffering, like he was being endlessly magnanimous by taking the time to explain something so obvious to someone as dim-witted as Poe.

“He told her all about how I steal children.”

Poe choked on his tea.

“You _what?”_

_“_ I’m sure that’s how he put it, and it’s not far from the truth. Except that in many cases those children had no lives waiting for them where they were. No opportunities, a future of scavenging and starvation to look forward to. The girl should be _envious_ of people like FN-2187 but she’s too dull to see it.”

“I—oh. You’re talking about the stormtroopers, aren’t you?”

“Of course I am.”

Poe sucked in a breath through his teeth.

“Yeah, I can see why Finn might hold that against you. You guys messed him up pretty bad.”

“It’s the galaxy that ‘messes people up’,” Hux snapped. “We fix them. Give them food and shelter, training. Skills. A _purpose_.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I don’t care about convincing you. You’re the one who won’t leave me in peace to do my work.”

“Well you could at least say thank you for the food,” Poe grumbled, as he stood up, collecting his own tray. He’d leave Hux’s (hopefully Hux would eat more of it after Poe was gone) along with the thermos of tea.

“Thank you for the food.”

Poe’s eyebrows shot up. His mouth hung open a little. He hadn’t expected a response, much less an immediate and sincere-sounding thank you—even if Hux’s voice was cold and snappish as always. Hux wasn’t looking at him, instead cradling his mug and looking down at the workbench, so Poe just stammered out, “Uh, you’re welcome,” and left.

The next day was a free day for Poe. He tried to put off visiting Hux for as long as he could, but grew bored by mid-morning. BB-8 rolled along at his side as he sauntered over to Hux’s combined workshop/quarters and knocked on the door frame.

“Heyyy sunshine. How ya holdin’ up?”

Hux was bent over the workbench, same as the day before, as if he’d never left it. He ignored Poe entirely this time.

Grinning, Poe let himself in while BB-8 beeped an inquiry.

_Hux!Friend (past)/=hear (int.)_

“I heard him,” Hux drawled, without looking up from where he was tinkering with a palm-sized bit of machinery. It was a dense metal cylinder with several cuffs of varying sizes, some of which were fixed and some which rotated under Hux’s careful touch.

Poe blinked. He hadn’t realized Hux understood droidspeak. He also cast an appraising glance down at BB-8, interested that he’d called Hux a friend.

_Hux!Friend (pres)/=answer reason request (int.)_

“Because he likes to talk. If I don’t talk, I have reason to believe he’ll go away much quicker than last time.” Hux didn’t even seem to be registering the fact that he was speaking to BB-8, he was so absorbed in his work. Poe drew to a stop a couple of feet from the table, hands on his hips.

“I _do_ like to talk,” he confirmed. “Dad always said I liked the sound of my own voice. It’s a nice voice, dontcha think BB?”

_Poe!Friend (pres)=have voice nice (dec)_

Poe chuckled.

“But you made a crucial mistake, Hugs.” He moved closer, leaning one hand on the table and lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Cuz BB likes to talk just as much as I do.”

_Self (pres)/=talk comp > Poe!Friend (exc)_

Hux sighed, and set down the cylinder. He leaned forward a bit, bringing both hands up to touch his temples. Poe’s face fell.

“Hey, you feelin’ alright?” He reached out, but only brushed Hux’s shoulder with the tips of his fingers before the other man flinched violently away.

“I’m fine!” He all but snarled, lip curled as he leaned as far away from Poe as he could get without falling out of his seat.

“Woah.” Poe held up both hands close to his chest. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You did not scare me! State your business here and then leave!”

“Well, I was going to ask if you wanted to go for a walk.”

Hux blinked.

“You’ve been cooped up in here a while, right?”

“I have not left these quarters since my transfer from the _Steadfast_ , as that would violate the terms of my imprisonment.”

Poe’s lips pressed into a thin line.

“Did Leia say that?”

“ _Yes,_ ” Hux spat. “Is it so difficult for you to understand the simplest of statements? I was ordered to stay here. I have stayed here. I _will_ stay here until the terms are changed. By order of your General, Leia Organa. Is that clear enough for you? Perhaps your droid is aware of some alternative method of communication unbeknownst to me that renders information accessible by your puny, undeveloped intellect!”

Poe was grinning again. It was a mistake.

“ _Stop laughing at me!”_ Hux’s voice was raised to near hysteria.

“I’m not! I’m not, Hugs, really, I’m not making fun of you. I’m laughing because you’re _funny._ ”

“I fail to see the difference. I am once again asking that you leave me to my work.”

_Hux!Friend-breathing(pos) (pres)/=be rate normal (dec)_

“Listen, just take a deep breath, okay?” Poe started towards him again, intending to put a hand on his shoulder before remembering that that’s what set this off to start with. Kriff, it was harder than he thought to keep from touching Hux. Poe was a pretty touchy-feely guy.

“What do I have to say to get you to leave?” Hux cradled his head in his hands, that uptight posture crumpling in a sudden, exhausted slump forward.

“Can you tell me how you’re feeling right now? I’m pretty close to getting Kalonia in here.” The closer he looked at Hux, the less he liked of what he saw. The guy was definitely breathing too fast, and they were quick, shallow breaths. His skin was pale and he seemed to be shaking slightly. The strangest thing was that his expression was curiously blank, gaze unfocused and directed at the floor somewhere near Poe’s feet.

Hux moved one hand from his head to the table, bracing it against the edge.

“Hugs?”

Hux shook his head.

“BB, can you—” Poe turned at the sound of the droid already rolling out of the room, beeping an affirmative.

Poe chewed his lip as he waited with Hux, feeling totally useless. After a moment he backed away, against every instinct he had to move closer, because he thought that giving Hux some space might be the best form of comfort he was capable of giving at the moment. Poe didn’t like it, but Hux raised his head and looked at him with what seemed to be a mildly thankful expression behind his glassy eyes.

Kalonia arrived a moment later, BB-8 rolling in ahead of her with more distressed beeping about the state of his Hux!Friend.

Poe watched as the doctor sat on the bench next to Hux, setting her kit on the table and quickly pulling on gloves before laying two fingers on the inside of his wrist to check his pulse. He saw Hux flinch slightly at the contact but he allowed it, and Poe wondered if it was because of the gloves. Or maybe Hux was just too out of it to react as he normally would?

Kalonia performed a few more routine checks before directing Hux to lay down. His cot was across the room. He seemed lightheaded when he stood up, wavering on his feet but quickly waving off Kalonia’s offer to help.

Poe had been quiet for a while but now he was itching to say something.

“Is he gonna be alright?”

“Yes.” Kalonia was packing away her gloves and instruments, clearly unconcerned. Poe narrowed his eyes slightly, wondering if the unconcern was because Hux was really okay or because Kalonia didn’t care as much as Poe thought she should about whether or not Hux was okay. “His symptoms are consistent with a mild panic attack. He just needs to rest until it passes.”

“Okay,” Poe said slowly, looking at Hux. He’d laid down on the cot facing the wall, his back to them. “Is there anything I can do?”

Kalonia shrugged.

“Get him a glass of water, if you want? He’ll be fine.” Her tone was brusque. Poe ran a frustrated hand through his hair as she left, then raised an eyebrow at BB-8.

“Her bedside manner could use some work, huh buddy?”

BB-8 beeped in a way that wasn’t easily translated because it wasn’t a definitive statement. He wobbled his head, then rolled about a foot towards Hux.

“Right. Hey, Hugs? Want some water?”

Poe didn’t really expect a response, and he didn’t get one. He shrugged again, frustration an itch in his very bones. He scooped up the mug he’d brought Hux last night and went to the refresher, washing it out to get rid of the cold, leftover tea before filling it with water.

After a moment’s hesitation Poe grabbed a nearby chair and drew it up beside the cot, taking a seat before holding out the mug.

“Listen man, it would be like, a _huge_ favor to me if you just drank some kriffing water.” Poe chuckled. “I’m not used to feeling this…uh, useless. It’d be nice to think I actually did something—”

Poe hadn’t expected that to work, but Hux suddenly turned over and sat up.

“I’m fine,” he said tersely, taking the mug. “You can go.”

“Stop trying to get rid of me.”

“I don’t understand why you’re here.” Hux took a drink. He was looking a little better, breathing normally, skin taking on a bit more of a lively, rosy color around his cheeks. He really did have a nice complexion, Poe thought. Pale and kind of…delicate?

That didn’t seem like _quite_ the right word. Just close to it.

Poe shrugged.

“I want you to be alright,” he said. “You don’t seem alright.”

“So it’s pity.”

“It’s not—” Poe blew out a frustrated breath. “It’s not pity, it’s _concern._ I’m allowed to be concerned, okay?”

“Why would you be concerned about me?” Hux made eye contact for the first time that day and Poe was left without words.

“Hux, haven’t you ever had a _friend_ before?”

“You’re not my friend.”

“That’s not answering the question.”

“I don’t have friends!” Hux snapped. “I have subordinates and superiors.” He looked down at his mug. “ _Had_ subordinates,” he muttered.

“And now I’m your superior, is that it? And I’m not supposed to care about your well-being?” Poe shook his head.

“Yes.” Hux took a sip. “You’re my superior because I am currently a prisoner, making _everyone_ my direct superior, even that droid of yours. And there is nothing to care _about_ so long as I function well enough to perform my duty. My work. I can still do that.”

“Uh huh.” Poe changed tactics. “Did you sleep last night?”

“That’s irrelevant.”

“I’ll just go ahead and take that to mean ‘no.’” Poe sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I gotta admit, Hugs, it’s really killing me to see you like this. I don’t know why. I want to help you.”

“There’s nothing—Can you _please_ just go away? I would like to rest and then get back to my work.”

“Fine.” Poe stood up. “But only because I think you do need some rest. Maybe take the day off, what do you think?”

Hux’s expression was enough to classify that as a stupid question. Poe rolled his eyes.

“Then at least take it _easy_. I’ll check on you later.” He lifted a hand, cutting off Hux’s objections. “That’s not a request, it’s a statement. Actually—no, the resting part? Taking it easy? That’s an _order._ ” Poe flashed a grin. “I’ll see you later, Hugs.”

BB-8 lingered just long enough to ask:

_Hux!Friend (fut)=be okay (int.)_

“Yes,” Hux sighed. “I’ll be fine.” He frowned. “I _am_ fine. Now roll along before I decide to reprogram you to wipe that excessive sentimentality from your circuitry.”

BB-8’s sequences of beeps and flashing lights equated to laughter.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poe takes Hux for a walk and discovers that Hux has done something nice for BB-8. Later, Poe helps Hux get to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See end of chapter for notes on the canon regarding a certain technology mentioned in the chapter.

Poe checked in a couple of hours later and sighed when he saw that Hux was back at the workbench.

“That’s it,” he said, striding over decisively, “You’re going for a walk. Come on.”

Hux gave him an appraising, suspicious look, but Poe was ready for him.

“BB? Show him.”

BB-8 rolled forward. A small panel in his exterior slid open to reveal a glassy projector eye, which then flickered to life.

Hux’s eyebrows climbed into that untamed fall of orange hair (almost the exact same color as BB-8’s chassis, Poe realized) as the droid projected a recorded hologram of Leia.

The hologram was about half Leia’s true height. She wore her dark, elegant robes and wrist jewelry that Poe remembered from their days on the _Raddus._ She seemed serene, composed, but with perhaps just the hint of a wry grin.

“Poe tells me you’ve been working hard, Armitage.”

Hux visibly blanched at her use of his first name. Unable to respond to a recording, his lips pressed together into a thin line.

“It was never my intention to keep you under house arrest for this long. I apologize. The rebuilding efforts here on Coruscant have taken most of my attention and, unfortunately, it slipped my mind.”

Hux’s nostrils flared. Poe winced.

“From now on, you have free rein of the base. You’re not to leave the compound except under an escort—either Poe, since he seems to have taken an interest in you—”

Leia’s mouth quirked up into an even more obvious grin.

“—Or someone appointed by him. For now, you are also restricted to Ajan Kloss. Don’t leave the atmosphere. Enjoy your new freedoms. And take a rest day.” She lifted her eyebrows, tilting her head. “I don’t want Poe calling me about this again. May the Force be with you.”

The recording ended, hologram fading out. BB-8 closed the panel and wobbled his head, beeping encouragingly at Hux.

“Well?” Poe clapped his hands, rubbing them together. “Good enough? Let’s get you some sunshine, sunshine.”

“Don’t call me that,” Hux muttered. Still, he levered himself up from the bench, moving stiffly with his injured leg. He grabbed that big ridiculous coat he’d always worn as a general and Poe frowned.

“Uh, it’s kind of hot out, you won’t need—”

Hux’s withering glare silenced him. Poe held up his hands.

“Alright, you do you. Do you need your cane?” Poe led the way out of Hux’s quarters, BB-8 rolling ahead of them.

“No.” Hux swept past him, limping slightly at first but seeming to gain more mobility the longer he walked. He seemed to have remembered the route he had taken when they first brought him to the base because he didn’t look back at Poe for direction.

He walked through the corridors for all the world as if he owned them.

Poe had no choice but to fall into line behind him, grinning as he lengthened his stride to keep up with the taller man. Hux may not have wanted to admit it but he was clearly desperate to get out of his quarters.

His progress was arrested when they reached the main doors to the compound, which required a code to open. He stopped, looking back at Poe with barely restrained impatience and for a moment Poe considered toying with him just like he had in that prank call above D’Qar.

His eagerness to help won out over his darker impulses.

“Got it,” he said, giving Hux what he thought of as his most charming smile as he punched in the code. The doors rumbled open and Hux swept out, his greatcoat flaring around his calves as the humid air of Ajan Kloss swirled around them.

It was a little past midday and the sun was high. Fluffy white clouds drifted lazily overhead. The jungle was a pressing wall of life at the edges of the base’s runways, grass and vines breaking through the beige duracrete and the call of birds filling the air.

Poe stopped to appreciate the scenery. Hux didn’t give it a second glance.

He stuck near the building, walking with a purposeful stride as if he were patrolling the perimeter of the compound, seeking out its faults.

Poe found himself jogging after him. BB-8 sped ahead, passing Hux and continuing on in pursuit of a dark-winged bird that had landed on the runway nearby.

Several moments passed in silence. Poe watched Hux carefully, hoping that the other man was taking some relief from being out of his quarters. It was difficult to read his expression.

After a while, Poe drew level to him, a lazy smile on his face as he enjoyed the exercise, the nice, if a bit muggy, weather, and the interesting company.

“So,” he began casually, “Do you get those often?”

Hux tilted his head.

“Panic attacks.”

Hux’s upper lip curled and he looked away. He walked with his hands clasped behind his back, pressed into his spine. Poe noted that, while disciplined and controlled, Hux’s stride was nothing like the stoic march of a stormtrooper—it was more of a glide.

He was surprisingly graceful.

“C’mon, Hugs. You can talk to me.” Poe almost nudged him with his elbow before he remembered the last time he’d tried to touch Hux. The other man lifted his gaze from the ground to look out at the jungle surrounding the base. He was turned mostly away from Poe when he answered.

“Not since I was a child.” His voice was distant and small. Then he cleared his throat and continued in a more brusque tone. “I have not been sleeping well. You were correct in observing that my prolonged confinement was wearing on me. I perceived your constant presence as a threat and saw no recourse to defend myself or remove myself from the situation. I…panicked.” Poe heard the distaste in his voice. “It won’t happen again.”

Poe chewed his lip, thinking that over. The air was thick and muggy but lifted in a sudden gasping breeze that tousled Hux’s hair as a shuttle passed by overhead. Birds scattered from the nearby tree line, a flurry of dark dots against a blue sky.

Hux had beads of sweat standing out on his brow and Poe resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He couldn’t believe the guy was wearing that coat out here; Poe had left his own jacket behind, rolled up his sleeves and opened his shirt to the sternum. The silver chain that held his mother’s ring stood out against his chest.

“Yaknow,” Poe said finally, “I hope it doesn’t happen again. I didn’t like seeing you like that.”

Hux seemed to bristle at that. His head snapped around to fix Poe with a searing gaze. Poe realized that for some reason he’d been under the impression that Hux had blue eyes, but he was wrong. They were green—and not a bright, emerald green, like the plumage of some of the tropical birds here on Ajan Kloss but more of a light and misty grey-green.

They were clear, like the sea glass his mother had told him about, that sometimes washed up on the beaches of Naboo.

It was right around then that Poe realized he was in trouble.

“I’ve expressed my understanding of the circumstances that led to the aberration and my determination to avoid repeating the scenario. Is there some other way you require me to atone? If so, I would appreciate you being upfront about it. You are a poor example of a commander.”

“Oh, boy.” Poe shook his head, biting back a grin. “Again. Lot to unpack there. That seems to be a theme with you, yaknow? Everything you say is wrapped in like, fifteen different layers of bantha shit.”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Poe regretted them. He hadn’t meant to insult Hux, he’d said it in jest but of course Hux didn’t take it that way. His nostrils flared and color rose to his cheeks and he went rigid, fully facing Poe and holding himself very still despite the obvious urge to do something—maybe smack Poe, the way Finn said he’d smacked him aboard the _Supremacy_.

Poe waited, but Hux didn’t say anything, didn’t move. He seemed to be waiting on _Poe_ for something and although Poe found Hux’s body language odd he jumped at the opportunity to explain himself.

“I just mean—an ‘aberration’? Really? You don’t have to talk about it like that. And you don’t have anything to atone for. Well, actually—” Poe blew out a breath. That was a stupid thing to say about _Hux_ , of all people…wasn’t it? He sometimes had to actively remind himself that this was the man who had destroyed the Hosnian System.

He should hate Hux, but that seemed pretty well off the table at this point.

“You are appallingly bad at speaking to your subordinates.” Hux sniffed, looking slightly away. Dismissive. Poe held back a laugh.

“For someone who thinks they’re my subordinate, you sure are mouthy.”

“A testament to your failure to exert your authority. If I were your superior officer I would demote you immediately.”

Poe raised an eyebrow and barely bit back the phrase _‘and what else would you do as my superior officer? Sir?’_

This was flirting, wasn’t it?

He rolled his shoulders, stretching his arms out in front of him and threading his fingers. He twisted his hands until his palms faced away and cracked his knuckles, then let his arms swing back until he felt the pull in his shoulder blades. He cricked his neck.

_“_ Well…okay,” he said finally. “I’m sorry you saw me as a threat. I didn’t think about that.” Poe grimaced. He could see now how trapped Hux must have felt. “Did it also have to do with me trying to touch you? I’m sorry about that, too.” Poe hated to think that he was responsible for Hux’s panic attack but it was looking that way.

Hux glared at him.

“You needn’t apologize. It’s unbecoming of an officer.”

“I mean, just cuz I’m in charge doesn’t give me the right to make you uncomfortable.”

Hux looked utterly perplexed at that.

Poe reached out, slowly, advertising his intention to touch Hux on the shoulder. Hux stepped smoothly to the side with a glare and Poe let his hand fall.

“Is there anything I can do to help you on the sleeping front?” Poe was exasperated, rapidly approaching desperation. He was used to being the big shot hero and he liked helping people but nothing he did seemed to make Hux feel any better. He didn’t know when that had become so important to him but at some point it had. Poe felt like he was failing his mission.

“Like is it the cot? Something keeping you up?” Poe frowned in thought. “Kalonia might be able to give you a sleep aid.”

“No,” Hux said quickly. “I’ll manage.”

“Alright.” Fine. If Hux didn’t want his help then that meant Poe was off the hook. He’d gotten Hux out of his quarters, after all. That had to count for something.

Hux turned away from him and again Poe felt like he was being dismissed. He almost laughed; Hux was every inch the First Order general, even if those stripes on his greatcoat meant nothing since he’d defected. As they started walking again Poe found himself drinking in Hux’s appearance. It was so close to how he’d presented himself when he was still in charge of the enemy fleets, but with telling differences.

Like the way his hair hung loose, coiling from the humidity. The flush of color to his normally glacially pale cheeks. The way he paused to swat irritably at an insect that landed on his neck, looking down at his gloved hand in disgust.

“This planet is unbearable,” he muttered, and Poe snorted.

“It’s not so bad. You should see the swamps on Yavin!” He grinned. “We can go back inside if you want.”

“No.”

“Yeah, didn’t think so.”

BB-8 finished chasing the bird and started speeding back to them, bouncing on the uneven duracrete. Poe watched him with a fond expression before he tilted his head. He noticed that every third or fourth bounce, BB-8’s chassis didn’t seem to actually make contact with the ground.

Beside him, Hux hissed.

“That’s not a toy!”

BB-8 drew to a stop, wobbling a few times with a series of confused and defensive beeps.

“What’s not a toy? What am I missing?” Poe looked from droid to Hux and back again.

_Hux!Friend (past)=give upgrade new (dec)_

“You got an upgrade? From _him?_ ” Poe jerked his thumb at Hux, who sneered and looked away. “What kind of upgrade?”

_Self (fut)=show Poe!Friend [if statement=Poe!Friend (pres)=throw rock (dec)] Poe!Friend (command)=strike BB (imp)_

“What? No!” Poe wasn’t going to throw anything at BB-8. The droid made a high-pitched whirring in consternation.

Poe saw Hux move out of the corner of his eye, and before he could do anything about it Hux bent smoothly to pick up a fist-sized rock and in a single fluid motion flung it as if he were skipping stones, but with more muscle. It sailed toward BB-8’s ‘head’.

“Hey!” Poe shouted, hand darting out, though he was far too late to catch or deflect the projectile. As it turned out, he didn’t have to worry. The rock bounced off of thin air about six inches from BB-8’s casing.

Poe’s eyes went wide.

“Is he _shielded?_ ”

“Yes.”

“Hux, that’s—” Poe put both hands in his hair and started laughing. He was floored. He ran towards BB-8 and put a hand out, feeling the solidity of the invisible barrier.

“Hugs, this is incredible! I’ve never seen shield technology on this scale, I thought it couldn’t be done—?”

“It couldn’t, until now.” There was definitely a note of smugness in Hux’s cool tone, but as far as Poe was concerned he had more than earned it.

“So _this_ is what you’ve been up to. I still can’t believe it, a _personal shield._ This is big, Hugs.” Poe finally turned away from BB-8 to look back at Hux, and saw that the man’s lips had twisted into the smallest of self-satisfied smiles. It made Poe’s stomach feel sort of light and fluttery to finally see a genuine smile on Hux—one that wasn’t preceded by talk of death, either his own or someone else’s.

It was a good look on him.

As if noticing where Poe’s attention had gone, the smile vanished. Hux flared his nostrils and frowned.

“There are still some design kinks to work out. It’s unstable. He shouldn’t use it so liberally. It’s not meant for _play._ ”

“Well, Hugs, you picked the wrong droid to test it out on then.”

Hux rolled his eyes and muttered something about discipline. Poe didn’t care. He felt warm inside.

They walked for a while longer, eventually circling the entire compound. They didn’t talk much, though not for a lack of effort on Poe’s end. He tried asking about Hux’s past, what led to him joining the First Order, but after the other man grew tired of deflecting the questions Hux simply lapsed into silence.

Poe eventually just started chatting about himself, telling Hux about growing up on Yavin’s fourth moon, learning how to fly from his mom, fixing up old speeder bikes—even telling him about the time he’d crashed one into Luke Skywalker’s uneti tree. Hux raised his eyebrows at that. He seemed genuinely interested in most of what Poe had to say, though Poe probably could have counted the number of words Hux contributed to the conversation without taking off his shoes.

Hux was odd. Poe struggled to fit the stoic silence of the man next to him alongside all those long, grandiose, flowery speeches Hux had been prone to as a general. Or, hells, even the way he’d ranted back in his quarters the other day.

Eventually Poe’s stomach filed a complaint about the skipped midday meal, and Poe suggested they go inside for lunch.

“Does your stomach dictate everything you do?” Hux raised a cool eyebrow at him, but it wasn’t really a protest because he reversed course and started walking back towards the entrance to the compound.

Poe laughed.

“Sometimes, yeah. When I don’t have much else planned for the day, might as well just go with the flow and do what feels good.”

Hux snorted, unconvinced.

Once inside the compound, and upon reaching the junction which led to Hux’s quarters on one side and the cafeteria on the other, Hux started towards his quarters.

“Hey! Aren’t you going to eat?”

“Later. I have work to do.” Hux turned and actually gave Poe a patient, unhurried look. “The walk was very refreshing. Thank you.”

BB-8 beeped a cheerful goodbye and rolled off toward Poe’s quarters. Poe put his hands on his hips.

“You know you don’t have to work yourself to death here, right? This isn’t the First Order.”

If Poe had had any doubts about the pure evil of the organization, they were quickly fading in light of Hux’s habits.

“I’m not,” Hux said, still with that new patience. The walk must have relaxed him more than Poe had realized. “I feel—inspired. I would like to get some thoughts down before I become distracted. As much as you seem unable to believe the concept, I _like_ my work, P—Dameron.”

Hux recovered quickly enough that Poe wasn’t even certain what he’d heard. But it left him with a sudden, fierce desire to hear Hux say his first name. He wondered what he’d have to do to get the uptight man relaxed enough to call him Poe.

“Okay, but I kinda think you should come to the cafeteria with me anyway.”

“Why?” Hux arched an eyebrow.

“Well, there was a base-wide update about your new status—being allowed out of your quarters and everything, but not everyone checks those updates as much as they should. It’ll be good for people to see you around while I’m there to head off any concerns.”

Hux chuckled. Poe was so distracted by the newness of it that he almost missed his next words.

“Worried that your friends are going to attack me, Dameron?”

“No! Well—“

“You should be,” Hux said darkly, though he didn’t elaborate. “Very well. Your concerns are valid. I will allow you to accompany me to the mess.”

“Thanks, Hugs.”

They got lunch without too much fanfare, enduring a couple of long looks from some of Poe’s friends that he returned with just a shrug and a wry grin. They didn’t think much of it; Poe had been seen in stranger company.

Hux insisted on taking his meal back to his quarters and Poe didn’t put up much of a fight. He was pleased by all he’d gotten out of Hux already today and the other man seemed to be in such a good mood that Poe didn’t want to risk ruining it with an argument he knew he’d lose anyway.

He thought about following Hux back to his quarters but resisted the urge, remembering how he’d unintentionally made Hux uncomfortable the last time he’d been there. Poe went back to his own quarters instead, flopping down moodily on his cot.

He wanted to spend more time with Hux. He found the former general to be interesting company and—well, kriff, there was no use denying it to himself anymore. The guy was hot.

Bah. He had to shake himself out of this somehow.

Poe spent the rest of the evening distracting himself. He talked to his friends and the pilots under his command. He worked on his x-wing, getting in BB-8’s way more often than he helped. He even tried reading a book after dinner—not that the written word had ever been able to hold his attention before.

Eventually, late into the night when he’d normally be getting ready for bed, Poe’s discipline flagged. He pinged the general over the video commlink and grinned when Hux answered immediately.

“What is it, Dameron?”

“Hey, Hugs. I’m bored. Mind if I come hang out?”

Hux’s mouth opened slightly. He was looking at Poe like the pilot had sprouted another head.

“What part of that’s got you stumped?” Poe asked with a wide grin when Hux failed to respond after several seconds.

“All of it.”

“Can I come explain it to you in person?”

“Fine.” Hux ended the video call and Poe jumped off his cot, self-consciously fixing his hair in the refresher mirror until the dark curls were laying handsomely.

When he got to Hux’s quarters he was completely unsurprised to find the man bent over his workbench. Poe lifted his eyebrows when he saw the lunch tray, food half-finished, and no sign of dinner. He sighed.

“No wonder you’re skinny,” he drawled, lounging against the far wall and watching Hux tapping away on his datapad. “Is this normal for you?”

Hux glanced up and Poe waved a hand at the lunch tray. Hux shrugged.

“Yes.” He looked back down at the datapad. There were dark circles under his eyes and Poe noticed that they kept drifting half-shut. Hux looked far less alert, less tense and wound-up than the previous night.

“If you’re tired I can leave,” Poe said, feeling a sudden stab of concern and warmth towards the other man.

“No,” Hux said quickly, blinking and straightening his posture. “I’m going to keep at this for a while. Your company is...tolerable.”

“Okay,” Poe chuckled. “Nice compliment, there. I’m flattered.”

“Hmm.” Hux tapped on the datapad a few more times before looking back up. “Are you going to explain your intentions here?”

“Oh, you were serious?”

“Quite. I don’t understand—” Hux paused, mouth twisting in displeasure before he seemed to force himself to continue. “I don’t understand the phrase you used. I also dislike stating that I don’t understand something so I would appreciate it if you kept this conversation between us.”

“Sure thing, buddy. What phrase?”

“You wanted to ‘hang out’?” Hux cast a glance around his quarters and Poe burst into laughter. It looked like the general was looking for something Poe could actually hang from.

“It just means spending time together.”

“Why would you want that?”

Poe shrugged.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Hux shifted in his seat. He gave Poe a long look, then returned his attention to his datapad without responding.

Poe sensed that Hux wasn’t much in the mood to talk. That was alright; he had come prepared to entertain himself. He pulled out a complicated-looking handheld device with levers and dials and a basic monochromatic screen, and sat back to play with it. It was a game that pilots used to test their reflexes and dexterity. It was great for keeping his hands flexible and reactive and had goals that Poe liked challenging himself to beat.

He was quickly absorbed into the game and didn’t notice the time passing, until he abruptly realized he could no longer hear Hux tapping quietly on his datapad.

He looked up, and his gaze softened when he saw that Hux had propped his head on one hand and fallen asleep.

Hux’s face was endearingly disarmed. His expression was open and soft, head tilting downwards a little further as Poe watched. His hair fell to cover his eyes. His other hand was lax on the work table, fingers loosely curled around the datapad as he breathed softly in a quiet rhythm.

Poe smiled. He set aside his game and padded over to Hux’s side. He liked watching the other man sleep but he was worried that Hux’s head was going to fall and strike the table before he could catch himself. Poe reached out and gently touched Hux’s shoulder.

Hux jerked awake with a snarl.

He brought his right hand around in a vicious slicing motion, fist curled as if around a blade. It was so convincing that Poe shouted and stumbled back, bringing his hands up to defend himself before he realized he wasn’t in any actual danger.

“Woah, woah!”

“ _Get away from me!_ ” Hux finished the slicing motion and then looked down at his hand, panting, hair in complete disarray. He seemed both surprised and dismayed as he rotated his wrist, fist still clenched around empty air.

“Hugs! It’s just me, I’m not gonna hurt you. You were falling asleep. I just wanted to see if you wanted to move to the bed.”

Hux didn’t answer that. He pushed his hair back from his face, frowning when it tumbled to the side instead of staying in place. He scrubbed his face with one hand, rubbing his eyes. He was shaking.

“C’mon, Hugs,” Poe said gently, extending a hand. “You’re kriffing exhausted. Just go to bed.”

“I can’t,” he snapped.

“Well why not?” Poe snapped right back. “This is ridiculous. You have to sleep, it’s gonna happen at some point.”

“I’m fine. I just need some caf.”

He made as if to stand.

“No way.” Poe was putting his foot down. “That’s not how we do things around here. You’re not going to run yourself into the ground, you’re going to go lay on that cot and get some sleep.”

“I can’t.” It was plaintive now.

“Okay. Okay, I’ll call Dr. Kalonia and she’ll give you something to help. You’re not the first person to need a sleep aid. I’ve used them in the past when I’ve had to switch up my sleep schedule, moving to a new duty rotation. They’re non-addictive so you don’t have to worry about that—“

“You would drug me?” Hux looked more incredulous than outraged, maybe even a little frightened.

“Not against your will,” Poe said. Grudgingly. “Did you have trouble sleeping when you were with the First Order? You sound like you’ve never used a sleep aid before, but—“

“If I were stupid enough to drug myself into a defenseless slumber then I wouldn’t still be here to bicker with you about it,” Hux snapped irritably.

“Is that why you slept with a knife?” Poe looked pointedly at Hux’s arm. He supposed he should be grateful to whoever had taken the weapon from him when he was transferredto the base since Hux had just tried to gut him, but he was also sad that Hux apparently didn’t feel safe without it.

“No one is going to attack you here,” Poe said slowly. Hux was looking down at the table, swaying a bit, and Poe wondered if he should bother to keep arguing. The other man looked ready to pass out whether he wanted to or not.

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.” Poe scrubbed a hand over his face. It was getting late and even he was feeling tired. “I’ll stand guard.”

Hux stared at him. He shook his head.

Poe sighed. This was pointless. He wasn’t about to undo however many years of defensiveness and mistrust were eating at Hux in a single night, and from Hux’s perspective the guy didn’t have much reason to trust him. Poe turned to go.

“Wait.”

He looked back. Hux had lifted a hand, letting it hang in the air for a moment before settling it on the table.

“Don’t go. Please.”

Poe’s eyebrows went up.

“Okay,” he said softly. “I won’t. Simple as that.” He took a seat next to Hux, was surprised when he didn’t flinch away from the proximity like he had every other time. Something in the room seemed to shift. It suddenly felt very late; if Poe didn’t know better he’d say that he and Hux were the only ones on base still awake. The only sound Poe could hear was Hux’s breathing and the soft whoosh of air through the ventilation shafts, the faint hum of electricity behind the walls.

It was…intimate. And Hux didn’t seem to mind. Poe decided to try something new.

“Can I touch your shoulder?” Maybe asking first would make a difference?

It did. Hux nodded. He looked miserable.

Poe put a hand on his shoulder and rubbed back and forth with his thumb. Hux shuddered, but didn’t pull away.

“I’ve been wondering about this,” Poe murmured. “You don’t like being touched?”

“If anyone has ever touched me in a way that was not meant to harm or control me, I don’t remember it.”

Poe sucked in a breath.

“I’m sorry, Hugs.”

“Don’t be,” he said brusquely. “It’s childish of me to want this.”

“I disagree. People—humans, at least—they need to be touched. This feels nice, doesn’t it?”

Poe didn’t really have to ask. He could tell by the way Hux was leaning in to his hand.

“Yes.”

Poe lifted his other hand so he had both planted firmly on Hux’s upper arms. He rubbed up from Hux’s elbows to shoulders and back down again. Hux sighed, and closed his eyes.

Poe didn’t see it coming. Hux fell into his embrace so quickly that for a moment he was afraid the man had fainted. But as Hux pressed his face to Poe’s chest his hands came up to clutch desperately at his shirt.

Shocked, Poe took a few seconds to properly respond. When his brain caught up to what was happening he wrapped his arms tightly around Hux. It seemed to be what the other man needed and Poe was more than happy to provide it.

Hux was breathing irregularly and instinctively Poe made little shushing noises in response. He felt Hux moving his nose back and forth against his shirt, just beneath his collarbone.

The former general of the First Order, the man who had built the weapon and given the order to destroy an entire inhabited system, snuffing out countless lives in an instant, was nuzzling into his chest.

It felt like a gift.

Poe didn’t know what he’d done to earn Hux’s trust— _Hux_ , who looked suspiciously at everyone and always thought the worst of their intentions. Though he supposed there was also a certain naivety to the man—Poe thought back to how easily Hux had fallen for the prank call.

Hux trusted no one. He wanted to trust someone. He’d chosen to trust Poe.

If the way Hux was sagging into him now was any indication, an embrace like this—the promise of safety, of someone on his side at last—was exactly what he’d needed to sleep.

Without a word Poe stood from the bench, drawing Hux up with him. The other man was compliant, malleable in his arms. He guided Hux to the nearby cot, toed off his own shoes and sat down, scooting back until his back was against the wall.

Hux hesitated but Poe pulled him down until he was right back where he’d started, securely nestled against Poe’s chest. It was a testament to Hux’s level of exhaustion that he didn’t fight it, simply stretched out on the cot and buried his face in the crook of Poe’s neck.

Poe started rubbing circles into Hux’s back and the other man shuddered again and sighed heavily, melting into the touch.

“Sleep, Armitage,” Poe whispered into his hair. Something in his chest was swelling to a crescendo and Poe could barely keep his voice steady as he promised, “I’ll keep you safe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So when I wrote this, I wanted a concrete way to demonstrate Hux's engineering prowess (because nothing you say can convince me that he isn't a genius). I figured a personal shield would be pretty cool (and hey, shoutout to any other Dune fans that might be reading) and as far as I know they're not portrayed at all in the sequel trilogy so I figured I was safe. After I wrote this, I remembered the shielded droids from the prequels (I think they're just in the Phantom Menace, not sure).
> 
> So you can either consider this a regression in the galaxy's technology since the days of Anakin Skywalker, or just straight up canon divergence.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hux wakes up in the middle of the night, and Poe finds a way to keep him in bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating change for the fic, sorry about that. Didn't plan for smut but here it is. Nothing happens in this chapter except for smut and more sleeping...you're welcome?

It took Hux less than a minute to fall asleep.

Poe could tell by the way the man’s desperate energy finally caved, the tension seeping out of his posture as he went heavy in Poe’s arms. His breaths grew long and slow. Poe had to stop himself from squirming happily.

Poe was a person who loved physical contact. He batted people on the shoulder, clapped them on the back, hugged and sometimes tackled them. On more than one occasion he had cuddled platonically with a friend, even slept in the same bed—just enjoying the shared contact and warmth. He probably got it from Kes, although he also remembered his mother being quite warm and affectionate. In his memories she was a bright presence, fierce and sharp—teaching him to shoot the bad guys out of the sky and drawing him into her lioness’s embrace at night.

Now he had one of those bad guys in his bed (or rather, he was in theirs). He didn’t know what she would think of that. Maybe she wouldn’t have been all that surprised. Kes and Shara had always known who their son was: a lover _and_ a fighter. They’d probably laugh at his two-pronged approach to taking down the First Order.

Hux was so warm against his chest. Poe closed his eyes, fighting the urge to run his hands across the other man’s back, not wanting to wake him.

He almost couldn’t believe it. That Hux had really never felt anything resembling a gentle touch. Poe would have thought it was an exaggeration except for the way that Hux had shuddered under his hands, like a simple embrace would be enough to shatter him apart. He had no idea how he would have survived in Hux’s shoes. Probably not without developing some serious issues.

The irony that ‘Hugs’ may never have been hugged was not lost on Poe. He felt a deep sorrow at the revelation tugging on his heart.

After several moments with his back propped up against the wall and Hux’s weight on his chest, Poe grew uncomfortable. Carefully he shifted so that he was lying down, letting Hux rest almost completely on top of his chest. He was worried at first that any movement would wake the sleeping general, but Hux was still deeply asleep, breathing slow and even. Poe craned this neck to look down, saw that Hux’s mouth had fallen slightly open.

Poe let out a sigh.

“Lights at five percent,” he said softly to the room, and the lights dimmed accordingly. It was late and he was tired too, his eyelids growing heavy. With Hux a warm and comforting weight on top of him, Poe drifted off to sleep.

Hux woke in the early hours of the morning. Poe felt him stirring against his chest.

“Eeeaasy, Hux,” he murmured, when the other man tensed and started to lift himself away. Somehow Poe could sense the impending freak-out, the one that probably should have come last night when Hux allowed himself to be vulnerable around an almost total stranger. But he’d been exhausted so he’d fallen asleep instead and now here he was, thrusting himself away from Poe with a sharp intake of breath.

“You don’t have to do that,” Poe said, holding on to Hux’s upper arms. He felt Hux go still, holding himself in a brittle sort of tension in a half-push-up so his chest was separated from Poe’s by a few inches. Poe squeezed his arms, a few brief pulses. “You could stay.”

He could hear Hux’s harsh breathing, feel the way the other man started to shake. Poe sighed.

“But if you really want me to leave, I will. It’s up to you, Hugs.” Quite selfishly, and before Hux could say anything, Poe lifted a hand and ran it through the former general’s hair. It had looked so soft. It was.

Poe wasn’t prepared for the sound Hux made as his fingertips dragged along the man’s scalp.

It was a soft, careless moan, that trailed off into a surprised little whimper.

Poe breathed in quickly. Hux froze.

What was _that?_

Poe bit back the question, afraid to break the fragile silence that hung suspended between them. Slowly, he moved his hand, stroking from Hux’s forehead through his hair all the way to the back of his head and down his nape. He made sure to press in firmly with his fingers, massaging the scalp as he went.

Hux moaned again and sank, trembling, down to Poe’s chest. Poe felt his own toes trying to curl in response.

He loved that sound. Craved it.

Poe took both hands and stroked Hux’s hair, petting the copper locks, dragging his fingernails along the scalp, and drinking in every pleasured sound that tumbled from Hux’s lips. Hux’s head rolled loosely on Poe’s chest, his breathing deep and heavy, shudders wracking his body.

“That feel nice?” Poe chuckled, and Hux nodded once, not looking up. His eyes were shut, mouth slightly open as he panted. Poe focused completely on the task of mauling Hux’s hair and enjoying the sensual moans that the simple touches drew from him.

“I guess no one has ever done this, either?” And Poe realized that he would give anything to be allowed to keep doing this, every day for as long as Hux let him. He got such a thrill from Hux’s responsiveness, his need. It filled Poe’s heart fit to bursting and, quite without his permission although not at all surprisingly given the sounds Hux was making and the way he was moving against him, Poe’s dick started to swell, heat rushing, oh, everywhere.

Hux lifted himself up again, and when he shifted his legs Poe realized that he wasn’t alone in his predicament. He was just about to apologize when Hux’s arms gave out and he dove down for a desperate, urgent kiss.

Poe made a pleased little sound of surprise as their lips met. He kept his hands in Hux’s hair, playing with the soft strands the color of a molten sunset that he’d been dreaming about touching for days. Hux melted into him, the urgent start to their kiss turning languid as he explored what it meant to kiss another person.

Poe could tell immediately that Hux was inexperienced. It was sloppy and tentative until Poe took the lead, nudging with his nose until Hux opened his mouth and Poe could dart an experimental swipe of his tongue along his teeth. Hux gasped, opened his mouth wider, his shaking hands coming up to grip the sides of Poe’s face, the leather of his stiff black gloves a strange sensation against Poe’s ever-present stubble.

“Mmm, that’s it,” Poe breathed, nodding encouragement. Hux, a quick learner in this as in everything, nipped at Poe’s bottom lip and it was Poe’s turn to moan. The sound seemed to do something to Hux, who had to pause, lifting his face just an inch or so away as he took a few deep breaths. Poe waited, looking up at him, eyes dark with lust.

Suddenly Hux moved his hips, a single rutting motion against the inside of Poe’s thigh and Poe tipped his head back.

“Kriff!”

Hux dove down and planted a wet kiss to the side of Poe’s neck. Poe shivered.

“Fast learner,” he gritted out, smiling as he twined his fingers in Hux’s hair and pulled. Gently.

The other man gasped and rutted against Poe again and Poe saw stars.

“Hux,” he breathed. Hux hadn’t said a word since he’d woken up but Poe needed to hear him. Needed to hear where he wanted this to go because Poe was in danger of losing himself completely to the intoxicating sensations of Hux’s body against him, his soft lips, his gorgeous fucking hair and just the entire gestalt impression that Hux made upon his senses. But Hux didn’t seem to want to talk. He moved his hips again, and again, and Poe squirmed under him.

“What,” he gasped, clutching at Hux’s hips like he was about to spin off into space, “What do you want? I’ll do anything.”

“I want you,” Hux growled. His voice sent shivers straight down Poe’s spine, all the way to his toes. “Stars, Dameron—“ Hux sounded frustrated, broke off to pant, to nip again and again at Poe’s lips. “I don’t know. I’ve never—“

He didn’t seem to know how to finish the sentence. Poe didn’t let him dwell on it.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to explain. Tell me what you want, whatever you want. I’ll do some things, you tell me if it feels good. If it doesn’t we stop immediately. Sound good?”

“Yes,” Hux breathed shakily, kissing Poe again. He shifted his hips in a fitful motion now, like he needed something but didn’t know what. “I want...”

“Yes?” Poe encouraged him, looking up eagerly, stroking the pale skin of his cheek, flushed red.

“I want you on top.” It was a tiny whisper, fragile and precious and Poe smiled, held it close, somewhere near his heart. He switched their positions, guiding Hux gently to the bed. Then he laid out on top of the other man, pressing his weight down, aligning their hips, and Hux gasped and bucked up against him.

“Like this?”

“Yes, yes.”

They resumed kissing, tasting each other, Poe licking in to Hux’s mouth and Hux reciprocating, a beat behind as he learned the steps and then giving as good as he got. His hands clutched fitfully at Poe’s clothes, tugging at shirt and waistband and Poe chuckled.

“Off?” He suggested, and Hux nodded quickly, yanking Poe’s shirt up. Poe sat up enough to remove it completely, then stroked Hux’s side.

“You too?” He teased at Hux’s shirt collar.

“No!”

Poe froze. It was a violent exclamation, torn from Hux on instinct, something primal, defensive. Hux was tense beneath him and Poe nodded slowly, hands gently stroking Hux’s chest over his shirt.

“Okay, that’s okay.”

“I’m sorry, I—“

“No. No apologies necessary. We do what you’re comfortable with. If this is what you want then I’m perfectly happy with it.”

“But you—“

And oh, what was this feeling? Poe looked fondly down at Hux, at the guilt on the other man’s face, the eagerness to please. Hux felt bad about making Poe take off his shirt when Hux wasn’t comfortable doing the same and stars, but Poe’s chest ached with something that glowed.

“I like this,” Poe said, reassuring and gentle and so, so happy in that perfect moment. “I like everything we’re doing and I like that you like it, that you feel safe enough to do this, to tell me when you don’t want to do something like take off your shirt. This is fine, Hux, this is wonderful. I like this. I like _you_. Do you believe me?”

Poe ignored the dampness in Hux’s eyes as the other man nodded, once, tightly. Poe smiled.

“Good.” He bent down to kiss him again, carded his fingers through the bright red hair. “Because you’re very pretty.” His voice was a husky whisper breathed against Hux’s lips. Soft lips. Lovely lips. “And I would like to keep kissing you. If you’ll let me.”

Hux answered him with a kiss, mouth open, warm and soft and yielding. Poe moaned, heat and gratitude coursing through him, wondering how he’d gotten so lucky.

Hux’s gloved hands played over Poe’s chest, stroking down his sternum, beneath each pectoral, back up to feel out the lines of his collarbones, his shoulders, like he’d never seen a naked body before and had decided to map every inch of it, commit it to memory. Poe found himself wishing that Hux would take the gloves off but he also found something about it undeniably sexy. Tempting. Withholding.

Poe shuddered under the touch, kissing Hux deeply, cupping his jaw and rocking his hips as he sought that bright spark of pleasure that seized his stomach every time their cocks rubbed together, even through all their clothes.

Poe thought this would be it, and was satisfied with the thought. That they would just kiss for a while, until Hux grew tired again, and they went back to sleep. If Hux wasn’t comfortable removing any of his clothes then Poe didn’t assume he was comfortable with much else other than kissing and humping and that was _fine_ with Poe. The last thing he wanted to do was cross one of Hux’s boundaries.

But things didn’t simmer down as he’d expected them to. Hux grew more and more frantic beneath him, biting Poe’s lips, scraping his hands down his back every time Poe rolled his hips just the right way, bucking up to meet each thrust. If his fingernails hadn’t been blunted by the gloves they surely would have left marks. Poe imagined what he’d look like with his back marred by bright red trails of passion, and he shuddered with need, with each swipe of Hux’s gloved fingers.

Poe trembled as he broke off the kiss long enough to look down at Hux, drinking him in: flushed cheeks, swollen lips, those clear eyes now dark, flooded with pupil.

“Hux,” he panted, voice deep and broken as he realized how far gone they both were.

“Please.” Hux’s chest was heaving as he gripped Poe’s shoulders, those long, slender fingers like leather-clad vices. “I need, I need…”

“What can I do?” Poe’s fingers splayed over Hux’s stomach, on top of his shirt. He circled the button of Hux’s trousers with one finger, raising an eyebrow when Hux hitched up into his hand. Hux was pulling on his shoulders, pulling and pulling but he wasn’t _saying anything._ Poe frowned.

“You gotta talk to me, Hugs.” He cupped the side of Hux’s face, stroking his thumb over his cheek. “I need to know what you’re okay with, what you want. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I’m not fragile,” Hux snapped.

“Oh, I know.” Poe smiled, leaning down until their foreheads touched and then holding himself there, petting the back of Hux’s head until that sudden, quicksilver anger dissipated and Hux sighed and tilted his chin up to kiss Poe again. “I know you’ve been hurt before, and you survived it. Good for you.” Poe kissed him soundly. “I don’t want to be something that you have to survive. Does that make sense?”

“Moderately,” Hux grumbled, and Poe huffed out a little laugh, nipping at Hux’s bottom lip. He started toying with the button on his trousers again, smiled wider when he heard Hux’s breath hitch.

“Alright. How about I tell you what I want to do, and you tell me if it sounds good?”

Hux nodded.

“I want to take off your pants.”

“Not—no.” Hux tried to look away but Poe reached up and grasped his chin in gentle fingers, keeping eye contact.

“Good job, buddy.” He kissed Hux, thoroughly, flush with pride and palming Hux through his trousers until the other man gasped into his mouth.

“Was that a test, Dameron?” Hux’s voice was breathy, with none of his customary bite.

“Yep.” Poe kept up the pressure with his hand, thoroughly massaging Hux’s erection, drawing soft, involuntary moans from the other man. “I can’t do this if you’re not comfortable saying no when you need to. Can I unbutton you? Push your pants down a little? Just enough so I can touch you?”

“And then what will you do?” Hux shuddered, panting again, his hips giving little fitful, thoughtless jerks under Poe’s hand.

“I could touch you until you come. Or I can suck you off.”

Poe ignored the way his heart throbbed when Hux’s cheeks flushed bright red at that.

“I believe…that would be acceptable.”

“Alright,” Poe chuckled. He rocked forward to kiss Hux as he started unzipping the sleek black First Order trousers, suddenly grateful that they’d allowed Hux to keep his uniform instead of dressing him in the ragtag Resistance earth tones. He pushed the trousers down a bit, careful of Hux’s posture and body language. If he tensed up, Poe would stop.

But he didn’t. Hux canted his hips a little, letting the garment slip down a few inches, and Poe let out a breath as he broke the kiss to look down at Hux’s underwear.

Under his trousers were just about the cutest little set of black boxer-briefs Poe had ever seen.

_Adorable. Sexy. Cute. So fucking cute._

Poe had to stop himself from moving too quickly. He let out another long breath, started to pull the underwear down with hands that shook from anticipation, and looked up at Hux with a wide smile.

“Still good?”

Hux simply nodded, eyes dark and dreamy with desire.

Poe thought about mouthing at his cock through the fabric of his briefs, but something told him that his fussy ginger wouldn’t appreciate all the saliva that would get on his uniform. And anyway both he and Hux were more than ready to move on to the main event.

Hux’s cock was the most delicate shade of pink-flushed ivory, with a brush of soft golden curls barely darker than his pale skin. Poe let out a soft, skittering breath, mouth already watering at the prospect of what he was about to do, craving the sounds he endeavored to draw from the reserved man whose favor and trust he had somehow proven himself worthy of. Poe lowered himself further as he wrapped his hand gently around the shaft, his touch delicate. The significance of it all was not lost on him—that Hux was baring this most sensitive and intimate part of himself to Poe.

This was not something that Poe could fuck up.

As he lowered himself he felt Hux’s hands sliding on his shoulders and Hux reflexively curled to try to stay in contact with him before letting himself fall back against the pillow with a confused little noise.

“Wait! Wait, what do I do…with my hands?”

It was the most endearing thing. Poe laughed.

“You could pull my hair. I like that.”

Obediently, Hux’s hand came to rest tentatively on the top of Poe’s head, stroking the thick black curls, and Poe grinned.

When he took Hux into his mouth Hux gave a little gasp. His hand twitched, then settled heavily into Poe’s hair. His body melted into the bed; Poe could almost feel the relaxation radiating off of him in soothing waves. He groaned around Hux’s cock, taking him in as far as he could.

Poe rested a hand on Hux’s slim hips as he worked. For a moment everything was quiet and still, Poe’s movements languid and unhurried as he got used to the heavy heat of Hux on his tongue, the taste and scent of him. Hux’s hand carded lazily through his hair and Poe closed his eyes, his hand twitching to grasp at the fabric of Hux’s shirt as he settled comfortably between Hux’s legs.

Long, slender legs. Gorgeous legs. Everything about Hux was so beautiful, and Poe hadn’t even seen him undressed (yet—Poe held out hope for the future). He wondered what Hux might look like. He’d be pale all over, maybe with a spray of light freckles across his shoulders. Poe wondered where he’d blush.

Poe suddenly sucked hard, hollowing out his cheeks, and Hux gasped and reflexively fisted his hand in Poe’s hair. Poe moaned at the rough sensation that tingled along his scalp. Encouraged by the way Hux’s hips canted fitfully, by the heavy breaths he heard from the man above him, Poe began sucking in earnest, losing himself to the inherently pleasing sensation of pleasuring someone else.

Hux seemed to be trying to keep quiet, biting off moan after moan. Poe sucked hard, fist pulling on the edge of Hux’s shirt, forearm pressed into the mattress, his own dick hard and throbbing in his pants. He came up enough to swirl his tongue around the tip and Hux groaned, loud and uncaring, and pulled on Poe’s hair.

Poe released Hux from his mouth long enough to catch his breath, to pant and lick and kiss the shaft, to murmur sweet encouraging things. He cradled Hux’s hips in both hands, cupping the swell of his ass in those sexy little jodhpurs, thinking not for the first time that the First Order tailors knew exactly what they were doing.

When he took Hux into his mouth again Hux bucked up, almost gagging Poe.

“Sorry,” Hux breathed, “Sorry, I—”

Poe silenced him by sucking hard, bobbing along his length, rewarded by the way Hux’s gloved fingers twisted in his hair, the way his body began to quiver beneath him.

One of Hux’s hands sought out Poe’s, and pulled, slipping it under Hux’s shirt so Poe’s fingers were splayed on his belly. Poe moaned, rolling his hips against the mattress, reveling in the soft flesh beneath his fingers, the smooth skin, overwhelmed by the sweetness in the gesture. He stroked Hux’s stomach, over his hip bones, up his sides until he felt his ribs, treasuring every inch of skin he’d been granted access to.

“Fuck,” Hux breathed, eyes squeezed shut. “ _Ohhh,_ fuck, Poe, I—”

Poe didn’t miss the fact that this was the first time Hux had called him anything other than ‘Dameron’ or ‘the pilot’. It only fueled his efforts, flushed with heat and pride at having done this to Hux, having stripped the man so bare that he would cry out Poe’s name in passion.

It wasn’t long before Hux, lost to the sensations, panting and keening and moaning in pleasure, began making little noises of protest, little warnings half-formed through the haze of lust and desirerapidly coming to a head.

“I—I’m—”

“Mmhmm,” Poe nodded, not breaking off from his ministrations, increasing the pace until he felt Hux shiver and shatter apart.

“ _Poe_ ,” he whined as he came.

When it was done, Poe stayed where he was for a long moment. He and Hux were both breathing hard as Poe tucked him back into his trousers and carefully buttoned him back up, restoring his fully clothed state. He was sad to lose the little contact he’d been allowed with Hux’s bare skin but the warmth of his thighs were still a comfort. Poe rested his head in Hux’s lap for a moment, basking in the afterglow of Hux’s orgasm as if it had been his own.

Wordlessly he rose to lay out beside Hux, cupping his face in his hands and kissing him gently. He felt Hux fiddling with something, but wasn’t sure what was going on at first.

Then, Hux’s hand came to rest on Poe’s cheek. No glove.

Poe exhaled shakily, a wide grin spreading on his face. Hux was flushed, glassy-eyed as he stroked Poe’s cheek, his gaze following the reverent motion as if transfixed by the sight of his own bare hand touching another.

“Wow,” Poe breathed. He was infinitely touched by the gesture. “You’re so sweet.”

Hux chuckled at that.

“You don’t know what I am,” he said softly, his thumb tracing over Poe’s lower lip.

Poe disagreed, but simply shrugged, not feeling like it was worth breaking the fragile sweetness of the moment. He gathered Hux into his arms. The other man was pliant, molding himself to Poe’s body. Poe kissed his nose as Hux’s eyes fluttered sleepily. He petted Hux’s hair, stroking the shell of his ear.

“I really like you,” he whispered. “Hux. Armitage.”

Hux made an unconvinced sound. He seemed to be already half asleep. After a few moments he roused himself, blinking at Poe with a look of open concern that made Poe’s heart flutter because when had Armitage Hux ever looked at _anyone_ that way?

Though when Poe felt his hand drifting down between their legs, it was his turn to furrow his brow.

“You don’t need to do that,” he whispered, shaking his head and gently bumping Hux’s hand away from where it had been tentatively tracing the outline of Poe’s erection.

“Doesn’t seem fair,” Hux muttered, drawing a laugh from Poe.

“And you’re so concerned about what’s fair?” He teased. Hux frowned, then relented with a sigh.

“Not usually. But you have been extraordinarily kind to me. I’d feel…remiss if I didn’t repay it.”

“You are.” Poe stroked his back. “I’m getting everything I need right now, trust me.”

“But shouldn’t I—? I feel I’m supposed to…reciprocate.”

“You aren’t _supposed_ to do anything.” Poe kissed his nose again. He loved the way Hux scrunched up his face, the little wrinkles in his nose and between his bronze eyebrows. “If you let me in your bed again, we can do more stuff. But if this is all new to you—”

“Everything here is new to me,” Hux cut in, bowing his head.

“Well, then I want you to enjoy it. No strings attached.” Poe held him close, enjoying the way he could wrap his arms so easily around Hux’s slender form. He found Hux’s hand, the one without the glove, and brought it up to his face so he could press his lips to the pale knuckles, kissing each in turn.

Hux sighed, tension leaving his body. Poe realized that every time he thought Hux had relaxed for good it seemed that somehow tension crept back in. No wonder the guy had trouble sleeping.

Speaking of which…

“Okay,” Poe chuckled, wrapping his hand firmly around Hux’s, his other arm slung around his back, cradling him against his own body. “Now you _really_ need to get some more sleep.”

“Hmm.” Hux seemed to be trying to keep his eyes open and failing quite miserably at it. Poe kissed him one last time, a chaste and gentle brush of their lips, before tucking Hux’s head in to his chest and resting his chin in the copper locks of the former enemy general.

“What’s this?” Poe felt Hux’s hand moving on his chest, looked down to realize that he was holding his mother’s wedding ring. It must have brushed up against him at some point.

“It belonged to my mom,” Poe said quietly. “She died when I was six.”

“Oh!” Hux dropped the ring like it had burned him. Poe chuckled.

“It’s okay, you can look at it.” Hux gave him a sleepy, uncertain look, but Poe nodded and Hux picked the ring back up, holding it gingerly between thumb and forefinger and turning it so it caught the low light. Poe felt an odd warmth in his chest as he watched the care and attention Hux paid to it. He inspected it like it was something—well, not exactly precious, but interesting. Noteworthy. Like it was a part of one of his devices, necessitating careful thought and consideration.

“My mother was a kitchen worker.” Hux blinked, eyelids lowering halfway as he tucked the ring back against Poe’s chest. “I don’t think my father’s union with her was consensual. He took me from her when I was three.” He stifled a yawn behind a fist, closed his eyes. His voice was emotionless, factual, if a bit muddled by exhaustion. “She died during the siege on Arkanis.”

“Hux.” Poe’s mouth hung open. He crushed the other man to his chest, drawing a surprised little huff. “I’m so sorry. That’s awful.”

“It’s nothing.” Hux squirmed a bit and Poe reluctantly loosened his hold. “I don’t remember her. Only what came after.”

Poe stroked his hair. Hux settled heavily against him and fell silent. A moment later he was breathing deeply and slowly once again. Poe’s eyes fluttered shut as he buried his nose in Hux’s hair and the two drifted off to sleep together, Poe with a little smile on his face from comfort he felt, the sense of intimacy and satisfaction. Hux had opened up to him in so many ways. Everything that came before—the war, that prank call, firing on his ships, Starkiller Base and Hosnia—seemed so far away and Poe was content to let it stay there.

He was perfectly happy here, like this, with a slender redhead in his arms, a man who’d proven to be surprisingly sensitive and complex and even caring in his own way. Poe wanted every night to end like this.

But when Poe woke in the morning, Hux was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And yes, for this fic I do headcanon a virgin Hux. Fight me? XD


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We've got a lot of feels here y'all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I make moodboards for (pretty much) every chapter but so far I've only posted them on twitter (hmu @rabidsola). Figured I'd add this one in because it was so soft and I liked it.

Poe was still mostly asleep as he clutched at the bed, feeling the space next to him on the mattress and frowning as his hand encountered nothing but cold sheets. His eyes were closed and he almost drifted off again before realizing why he found the lack of warmth so disconcerting.

Blinking, Poe sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

“Hugs?”

His voice fell flat in the empty quarters.

The lights were up. Poe cursed himself for being a heavy sleeper as he sought out his shirt, tossed carelessly to the floor during the course of the night. The memory of what he and Hux had done together came drifting back to him. It felt like a dream—both too good and too strange to be true, though he knew it was. Dread coiled in the pit of his stomach as he couldn’t help but connect their acts of intimacy to the fact that Hux had abandoned him while he slept.

Did Hux regret it?

Where had he gone?

Was he okay?

Poe stood up and stretched, tamping down the nerves by telling himself that Hux could take care of himself just fine. That he had wanted what they did together last night just as much as Poe. That Poe had done everything he could to make sure he’d taken care of Hux’s needs first. That this guilt and worry were unnecessary and premature.

He also had to ignore the selfish little voice inside of him that whispered about _his_ needs. Poe didn’t like waking up alone after a night of intimacy. That was, in fact, one of his very least favorite things. He didn’t like being tossed aside, feeling abandoned. Unwanted. _Used._

He shook his head and told himself that Hux hadn’t known Poe would feel that way or he wouldn’t have left.

Poe crossed the room and poked his head into the refresher. He knew before he even looked inside that Hux wasn’t there. Everything was quiet, empty. Hux had a certain presence that Poe—with his pilot’s intuition and awareness of his surroundings—just knew he would be able to sense if he was nearby.

Poe knew he should leave right away to seek out Hux but he paused as he passed by the workbench. He was struck by an overwhelming curiosity as he realized this was the first time he had been in Hux’s quarters when Hux wasn’t there. It might have been a bit naughty but Poe couldn’t help the urge to poke around a bit.

He spent a moment looking at the assorted pieces of equipment arranged neatly on the table. They were as incomprehensible to him as ever—Poe had no affinity for complex machinery unless it was an engine of some kind. He assumed they were prototypes of the shield technology Hux had outfitted on BB-8. There were tools as well, most of them slender and precise—meant for the sort of finicky work he imagined Hux to be best at.

Hux’s datapad was on the table, as well, and Poe absently brushed a finger across the screen, simply wanting to touch something that Hux had touched so often. To his surprise, the screen lit up with the menu open. Unlocked.

Of course, Leia probably hadn’t trusted Hux with a datapad unless any member of the Resistance could access it at any time.

Curiosity getting the better of him again, Poe opened the last application Hux had used, and froze.

A warning raced up his spine, making the fine hairs on the back of his neck prickle.

It was a list of names.

Poe frowned as he scanned the list. His heart was racing and all he could think was: _no._

_No, Hugs. C’mon. Please. No._

He swiped a hand over his mouth. He recognized most of the names—they were all members of the Resistance assigned to the base, residing here on Ajan Kloss. Hux must have gotten hold of a manifest at some point, though Poe dreaded to think of to what end. A list of names was never good, though, was it?

They weren’t engineers, that was for certain. It couldn’t have anything to do with Hux’s shield project—unless they were volunteers to try out a prototype? But that didn’t feel right, and Poe didn’t realize why until he came across the name that made it all fall into place.

Jythim Cos was a young human pilot from a different squadron who had come to Poe after the firing of Starkiller, shaking so bad he’d had to lean on Poe just to stay upright. He had been born on Raysho. His family—mother, father, two brothers and a baby sister and more cousins than he could readily remember—had all been planetside during the Cataclysm. They were stardust now.

Poe sat down heavily on the bench.

As he scanned the list he realized they all had that in common. Families and homes on one of the five planets destroyed by the First Order, at Hux’s command.

Hux was curating a list of his victims.

Anger rose up in Poe, burning up his insides. It was laced with a hurt so deep he gasped, clutching the edge of the table and blinking hard.

_That fucker._ The thought rose unbidden. _That fucker that fucker how DARE he—_

Wait. Wait.

Poe stood up, slamming the datapad to the table and pacing the length of the room. It took all of his self-discipline to keep from scattering Hux’s work to the floor, to keep from picking up the heaviest piece of equipment he could find and chucking it at the wall. He was shaking from the effort to restrain himself. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, the kind he got when he was already seated in the cockpit of his X-wing and bringing his sights to bear on the target.

_Wait_ , he tried to tell himself. _Stop. Breathe. There has to be an explanation. Think._

There had to be a reasonable explanation for this. He tried to think about it from Hux’s perspective but the exercise was futile, only making it more clear than ever that he didn’t know the man at all. If it were Poe in his place he supposed he’d want a list of the people he had to apologize to—only he _knew_ that Hux would never apologize for what he’d done, and anyway what good was an apology against the scale of those people’s tragedy?

So what, then? Was Hux trying to finish the job?

Poe didn’t want to believe that. Bile rose in his throat at the very thought. But just because it was distasteful didn’t make it less true. A pained little sound escaped from the back of his throat and Poe looked up at the ceiling with his hands on his hips trying to will away the hot tears gathering in his eyes.

He’d wanted to believe in Hux, to trust Hux. Last night had clearly been a mistake and the realization knifed through him. Poe ran his tongue over his teeth and lifted a hand to tug at his hair. He had to get out of here.

He rounded on the door to find Hux standing there, staring at him.

“Dameron.”

He held a tray in each hand. Poe’s brain was sluggish in putting together the thought that Hux had brought him breakfast.

“Really?” It came out as a broken plea chased by a joyless laugh on the edge of hysteria.

Hux had brought him breakfast.

What a thoughtful murderer he’d slept with.

“Something has happened.” It wasn’t a question, but an imperious statement, and Hux drew himself up, his shoulders high and sharp beneath his greatcoat. His expression was cold, those green eyes incisive and calculating. He stood very still holding those trays with their little containers of cut fruit and rehydrated egg scramble and cartons of juice and Poe was certain he was about to go to pieces at the ridiculousness of it all.

“Yeah.” He bit his lip. “Yeah, something has happened alright.” He gestured angrily at the table. “I saw your little _list._ ”

Might as well get right down to it, the reason his chest was on fire and every breath dragging razor-sharp against his insides.

“Ah.”

Hux’s gaze flicked to the table and back to Poe. He moved slowly then, cautious as he circled around to the edge of the table and set down the trays. His motions reminded Poe of a Twi’lek knife-fighter: deadly, graceful, and feline. Hux was preparing himself for something, carrying himself as if he were armed. Poe tensed in response.

Last night seemed so very far away.

“And what did you think?”

Poe blinked. He noticed that Hux had put the table between them.

“What did I _think?_ What, do you want me to tell you you did a good job? That you got ‘em all, every last person on the base whose lives you destroyed?”

Hux winced. It was quick, but it was there, and Poe suddenly felt himself holding onto his anger like it was a shield that could protect him from something even worse.

“I don’t need you to tell me that. I know I did.”

“Tell me why.” Poe was begging, now, but he couldn’t help it. “Tell me why you have that list, what you’re going to do with it.”

“Nothing,” Hux said quietly. The sincerity in his voice was painful to hear. “The list is the purpose.”

“I don’t understand.”

Hux looked away from him. He seemed uncertain, his deadly calm evaporating into something held together by the weakest tethers. Poe felt the need to reach out to him, to draw him into his embrace, and at the same time was revolted by the urge.

“I know those people, Hux. Jythim—we had to _sedate_ him after you fired Starkiller. You—the First Order took everything from him.”

“Yes.” Hux’s gaze blazed back up at Poe, frightening and fearless. “And what do people do when they have nothing left? What do you think all of those people want to do when they see me? Here, walking freely without restraints or guard, eating their food?” Hux gestured sharply at the untouched trays and Poe saw that his hand was shaking.

Then it clicked.

_Oh._

“Hux—”

“You are right to be concerned about your people, of course. Now that there is a monster in their midst.” Hux slammed his hands on the table, the suddenness making Poe jump. Hux was bent over, his head hanging as his chest rose and fell in quick, shallow breaths. “A monster without teeth.” He laughed faintly.When he raised his head to look at Poe there was something wild in his eyes.

“I haven’t been so defenseless since Academy. But I have learned to keep my back to the wall and to avoid dark corners and to know the names of those who have most reason to see me come to harm.”

Relief coursed through Poe, as potent as a drug, but along with it came guilt and the kind of hurt that was tied to someone else’s pain.

“Hugs,” he whispered. His hands ached to reach out to him, to smooth away the tremors that rippled across his shoulders and down his arms. He started edging his way around the table, approaching Hux like he would a skittish wild creature.

Hux’s nostrils flared and his eyes went so wide that his irises were swallowed up in the white. But he didn’t move, appearing frozen in place against his every instinct to flee. As Poe came closer Hux merely turned to face him head-on, like he was in the midst of a collision and determined to face the fire—offering himself up on the altar of his destruction.

Poe slid his arms around Hux, folding the taller man into a careful embrace. As his hands came to rest, pressing firmly into Hux’s back, subsuming the tremors that wracked his spine as if Poe was a sponge that could soak up his pain and fear, all he could think was: _I knew it._

Hux’s hands came up a moment later and fisted in the back of Poe’s shirt. His head was slightly bowed, his posture bent just enough so that he could press the side of his face to Poe’s. His skin was cold.

Poe’s hand moved in soothing strokes up and down Hux’s back.

They stood in silence for a long moment, Poe listening to Hux’s ragged breaths. Then:

“You brought me breakfast,” he said quietly.

“I did.” Hux nodded once. His chest bumped against Poe’s as it rose and fell rapidly, the rhythm irregular. Unsustainable. He made a little sound on each inhale like the air was hitting the back of his throat.

“You don’t have to be afraid.” Poe shifted so that his forehead was pressed against Hux’s and he spoke softly into the tiny space between them. “No one here will hurt you. If they tried, I’d protect you.”

“I am afraid of you most of all, Poe Dameron. You can kill me with a look.”

Poe sucked in a sharp breath.

“I’m so sorry, Hugs. I should have trusted you.”

“You should do no such thing. I have never in my life been trustworthy.” He tried to pull back but Poe followed him, unwilling to let him go. Hux’s next breath sounded like a dry sob and he clung even more desperately to Poe’s shirt, pulling it so the collar was tight against Poe’s throat.

“You deserve the chance.”

“How can you say that?” Hux cried. “How can you even stand to touch me?”

“Because you need it.” Poe lowered his voice, confiding. “And because I’ve killed people, too.” He cradled Hux’s face in both hands. “I have to believe we can come back from what we did during the war. I have to believe that we can still save people, and I want…I want to save you.” He rocked his head up to plant a tiny kiss to Hux’s chin. “You carry so much pain with you. I can feel it. I just want to take it all away.”

“Please, don’t say such things.” Hux was taking little sips of air, shoulders jumping with the effort to hold them in. A tear coursed down his cheek. “You’ve become too dear to me already. I won’t be able to bear it when you go.”

“I’m not goin’ anywhere, pal.”

“You are a fool if you cannot see that good things only come to me so they can be ripped away.” Hux lifted his head enough to fix a watery gaze on Poe. He blinked. “And you are the best thing of all.”

He reeled. Poe caught him with a strong arm around his waist, crushing Hux against his chest until he felt the other man’s heartbeat flutter erratically against his skin. He turned and lowered Hux to the bench beside the worktable, murmuring, “Okay, okay. Easy Hux, just breathe for me.”

It took a long while for Hux’s breathing to even out. Poe sat with him, stroking his back, talking him through it.

Eventually Hux shucked off his greatcoat. Poe pulled one of the trays over to himself, chewing on a biscuit and winking at Hux when he looked at him askance. That drew a dry chuckle and Poe smiled wide in return, feeling lighter than he had since waking up alone that morning.

“You should tell me about Academy.” Poe nudged Hux with his elbow. “I told you all kinds of stuff about me but I don’t know anything about how you grew up.”

“That’s a good thing.” Hux smiled weakly. He was quickly getting himself together, running fingers through his hair to set it aright and dabbing angrily at the dampness on his cheek with the heel of one hand.

Poe decided to let it go. He cast a glance at the breakfast trays, then smirked at Hux, impish.

“So no caf?”

Hux rolled his eyes, then looked down, almost demure.

“I couldn’t carry it all.”

He actually sounded contrite. Poe leaned in and kissed his cheek before standing up.

“I’ll get some. And tea for you.” He chucked Hux under the chin lightly with his knuckles. “Don’t go anywhere, handsome.”

Poe loved how readily he blushed at the smallest compliment.

He hurried out of Hux’s quarters and towards the cafeteria. He didn’t want to be away for too long—he was enjoying himself too much in Hux’s company. It was strange how easy their conversation could be when they were so _different._ But somehow it was just that: easy. Hux was naive and overly serious, which was quite frankly adorable, but sometimes he surprised Poe with his ability to match his banter, and with the things he let slide.

And Poe felt like he was making good headway into getting Hux to open up to him, to trust him. It felt like the most important thing he’d ever done.

With a thermos of caf in one hand and tea in the other, Poe was on his way back when he saw Finn jogging down the corridor towards him.

“Hey!” Poe smiled and lifted one of the thermoses in greeting in lieu of a wave.

“Hey,” Finn replied, flashing a brief smile as he came to a halt and put his hands on his hips. Poe could immediately tell that there was something fidgety and uncomfortable about Finn’s demeanor and his own smile faded, replaced with an expression of concern.

“Everything alright?”

“Yeah, yeah. Just, yaknow—wondering where you’ve been.”

“Have you been looking for me? Something up?”

“No! Nothing’s up. Definitely not anything…up. Nothing up there.”

“Finn.” Poe quirked an eyebrow at him. “C’mon, man. Spill it.”

“It’s just—people have been talking and I guess I wanted to hear your side of things.”

“People. Talking.”

“Yeah.”

Poe shrugged, affecting nonchalance despite the unease settling in his stomach. He had a heavy suspicion of where this was heading and he didn’t like it one bit.

When he didn’t respond, Finn shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and crossed his arms. He leaned in closer so he could lower his voice.

“They say you spent all day yesterday with him? With—Hux?”

“I did.” Poe nodded firmly, refusing to show the slightest sign of guilt over something he didn’t feel guilty about in the least.

“And that he took two breakfast trays back to his quarters this morning?”

“Yup!” Poe lifted the two thermoses in his hands, smiling brightly. “He’s sweet, right? I ran out for tea and caf. Was just on my way back.”

Finn’s eyes were wide as saucers. His mouth hung slightly agape.

“S-sweet?! He is not _sweet._ Poe. _Poe._ You can’t say that he’s sweet.”

“Why not? He is.”

“You _have_ to know why that’s nuts. Are you feeling okay? Have you been to see Kalonia recently? Maybe your oxygen mask wasn’t on the right way during your last flight.”

“Finn,” Poe chuckled. He’d be angry if Finn had been mocking him but instead his friend sounded genuinely worried about his health. “I’m fine. You just don’t know him; I do. It’s as simple as that. He’s a complicated guy.”

“Right. A complicated guy who destroyed five planets and led the army we’ve been fighting since—”

“Since you defected?” Poe raised an eyebrow. Finn glowered at him.

“Yes, since I defected. Because I refused to kill innocent people. Which he’s done, _billions of times over._ ”

“Finn.” Poe’s voice was a warning, his expression no longer friendly. “It’s more complicated than that. These things always are. You should try getting to know him. He’s just a man and he needs a friend.”

“Oh, and that’s all you are to him, right? A friend?”

Poe balked, backing up a step.

“What are you saying?” His temper flared. “Do you have a _problem_ with—”

“No! Kriff, that didn’t come out right.” He chewed his lip for a moment before continuing. “Look, Poe, you can do whatever you want. Really. I just—I’m worried about you, alright? Like, are you even safe with him? What if he’s manipulating you?”

“He’s not.” Poe relaxed some; Finn was a good friend to him and he could understand where he was coming from. He had to chuckle. “You think he’s bewitched me? That I’m under his spell?” He nudged Finn with one elbow. “C’mon, man. I can take care of myself. I’m exactly where I want to be.”

“I don’t know, Poe. I just don’t know.”

“Listen, I’ll catch up with you later, alright? I gotta go before his tea gets cold.” Poe winked. “Or I might get a reprimand. Maybe a spanking, what do you think?”

“Ugh!” Finn clapped his hands over his ears, already turning away. “Nope, nope, nope. I did not just hear that.”

Poe chuckled, shaking his head. He didn’t expect Finn to understand, but he was glad that he at least seemed to accept that Poe was going to do whatever he wanted and that in the end it was nobody’s business but his.

He jogged the rest of the way back to Hux.

Hux was bent over the workbench with his datapad in hand and looked up as soon as Poe swept into the room.

“I deleted the list.” He placed the datapad on the table, folding his hands. “It upset you, and I suppose if anyone else saw it they wouldn’t be so understanding as you have been.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Poe said breathlessly, waving it off. He set the thermoses down without breaking stride, going straight for Hux, putting his hands on either side of Hux’s face and tilting him up for an insistent, hungry kiss. Poe leaned in until their chests were pressed together as he kissed the other man like he was the only source of air in the room.

“Mmm!” Hux was undoubtedly surprised but he responded willingly. His hands immediately found Poe, slipping up his sides and over his shoulders to wrap securely around the back of his neck and wind into his hair, nestling into the curls. Poe remembered how much Hux had enjoyed having his hair played with the previous night. He cupped the back of Hux’s head and massaged his fingers into the scalp as he licked into Hux’s mouth.

Hux shivered and moaned.

He broke the kiss as his head fell forward against Poe. Panting and shuddering with each swipe of Poe’s fingers, his hands grasped desperately at Poe’s shirt.

“Why does that feel so good?” He groaned against Poe’s chest.

“I dunno.” Poe chuckled. He pulled gently at Hux’s hair, rocking his head back and forth. “You’re sensitive. I like that.”

“Ohhh…Poe, wait, I—” Hux tried to pull back as Poe shifted against him, settling into his lap. Poe’s eyes lit up when he felt Hux’s arousal.

“Oh you _really_ like it, huh?”

“Don’t make fun.” Hux frowned.

“I’m not,” Poe growled, just before devouring Hux in another searing kiss. Hux opened for him instantly and his mouth was. So soft. Hot and velvety and slick and Poe couldn’t get enough of the taste of him, there was no way he could ever get enough of this, of the little sounds Hux made in the back of his throat when Poe teased his tongue along the roof of his mouth.

“Dameron.” Hux pulled back, letting a few more light kisses fall before placing a hand in the middle of Poe’s chest and pressing him firmly away.

“Sorry.” Poe closed his eyes and nuzzled his nose against Hux’s. He reluctantly slipped out of Hux’s lap to the bench beside him and slid the thermos of tea into Hux’s hand. Hux took a tentative sip, looking at him sideways like he suspected Poe was ready to pounce on him again at any moment.

“What’s gotten into you? Are you always so insatiable?”

“I mean, kinda.” Poe took a sip of caf and chuckled. “You’re hot and I like you. And you were saying all those nice things about me.” He leaned in close, lowering his voice. “I’m _dear_ to you.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m _the best thing of all._ ”

“Please.” Hux was blushing bright scarlet, burying his nose in the thermos. “I wasn’t in my right mind.”

“I think you were. I think you _liiiiike_ me,” Poe said in a sing-song, drawing out the word.

“Stop acting like a child,” Hux snapped. He frowned and dragged the nearest breakfast tray over so he could spear a piece of fruit on the end of his fork and pop it moodily into his mouth.

Poe felt a stab of annoyance at the brusque tone, but figured he’d probably pushed Hux far enough by then that it might have been warranted.

“I’m just teasing you.” Poe drank his caf and ate some of his own breakfast, focusing on the fruit and avoiding the egg scramble that had gone cold and rubbery by then. “I don’t mean anything by it.”

Hux sighed and drank his tea.

“You’re not really mad, are you?”

“Of course not.” Hux set down his fork. “I’m coming to suspect that you are someone I could never truly be angry with. Not after how you’ve treated me.” His tone was clinical and forthright in a way that affected Poe deeply, perhaps more so than if Hux had been overtly sentimental.

Hux was stating facts, and there seemed to be nothing so important and dear to Hux as facts.

“But I’m not used to—this.” He gestured between them. “Whatever this is. I have no—experience, no examples to model my behavior after.” He lowered his voice, looking down at the space between them. “I don’t know how to act in this scenario. You seem to want nothing from me other than—”

He flapped his hand in distress as words failed him.

“Companionship?” Poe suggested with a sideways grin.

“Hmm.”

“And you’re used to people wanting…what?”

“Whatever I can give them that would further their own agenda.” Hux turned back to the fruit but Poe scooted a bit closer and put his hand over Hux’s. He plucked Hux’s fork from his fingers, picked a small piece of fruit, and offered it to Hux.

“What are you doing?” He leaned back, trying to avoid the fork hovering in front of his mouth.

“C’mon, humor me.” He wiggled the fork. Hux glared at him, seemed to consider a reproachful remark, then simply sighed again and darted forward to take the piece of fruit into his mouth. Poe grinned from ear to ear.

“So, like, what kind of agenda would that be? Typically?” He picked up another piece of fruit while Hux chewed that over (both the question and the last piece of fruit).

“Typically? An advancement in rank. Though for some it was merely survival. And in Snoke’s case, his agenda was always harder to discern.” Hux frowned, though he accepted another piece of fruit and chewed thoughtfully. “I don’t want to talk about him,” he said decisively, after swallowing.

“Okay. Yeah, no, I didn’t mean to…okay.” Poe put the fork down and picked up a piece of fruit with his fingers, holding it up and quirking an eyebrow at Hux.

“You can’t mean—Poe, that’s _disgusting._ ”

“Is it?” He waggled his eyebrows. “I think it’s sexy.”

That seemed to set Hux back. He regarded the fruit like it was a math problem—maybe thinking about how he could take it from Poe without touching Poe’s fingers with his mouth (though that was exactly what Poe wanted and why he was doing this).

Just when Poe was thinking it was a lost cause, Hux leaned forward. As his lips parted to take the fruit between his teeth he looked up at Poe through those light golden eyelashes and Poe’s breath froze in his chest. Just the tip of his tongue darted out to guide the fruit into his mouth and he lingered just long enough for Poe to brush his thumb over the bow of Hux’s upper lip.

Then Hux was sitting up, leaning away, and Poe couldn’t help the tiny whimper that escaped from the back of his throat, wanting nothing more than to chase Hux’s lips and claim that perfect mouth with his own.

Poe took a deep breath and grinned as he watched Hux chew and swallow. Hux was looking at him triumphantly and Poe was more than happy to be the lovesick fool, conquered by that smug gaze. He grabbed another piece of fruit, scooted a bit closer until their knees were pressed together and their faces only a foot apart.

“Well, you’re right.” Poe’s voice was husky and low as he offered the fruit up to Hux, eyes riveted to his mouth. “All I want is this. I just like being around you, and I’ll say it as many times as it takes for you to believe me.”

“I think,” Hux tilted his head forward, hovering over Poe’s hand, “That I believe you. But I still like hearing it.” He plucked the fruit nimbly from Poe’s fingers but caught his hand before Poe could lower it. Quickly swallowing the fruit, Hux opened his mouth again and Poe gasped as he kissed the tips of his fingers, then gave them a tentative swipe with the tip of his tongue.

Poe’s mouth hung open. His heart rate had sped up and his spine was tingling. He was very aware of that singular point of contact between himself and Hux—Hux’s gloved hand curled firmly around his wrist, trapping it between them. He wondered if—what Hux would do if he tried to pull away, if he would hold Poe there, if he would—

Then he realized that Hux was looking up at him through his eyelashes again, his eyes—such a soft green, so clear and somehow both muted _and_ bright, that couldn’t be right, could it?—were wide and round and his eyebrows—perfect, this wonderful otherworldly bright reddish-gold—were drawn together into a beseeching gaze, hesitant and searching and pleading.

“Was that—?”

“ _Yes,_ ” Poe gasped, surging forward to kiss him before Hux could finish the question, chasing away any doubt the other man might have had that that was _exactly_ what Poe meant by sexy because it was, perfectly, searingly, bone-shatteringly so. Poe cupped Hux’s jaw, slid his hand up until his fingers brushed the shell of his ear and kissed him until he was lightheaded from lack of air.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: episode of agoraphobia and disordered eating due to stress

Hux had kicked him out of his quarters. Poe was trying not to take it personally.

It was honestly a little funny, and all sorts of endearing. Poe had been ready to take the other man apart after that little stunt with the fruit—but Hux had put a stop to everything after just a few moments of kissing, firm in his insistence that he had to do things like “shower” and “change _”_ and “brush his teeth” and “do literally anything other than laze about with incorrigible pilots”.

Poe tried to rearrange his expression to hide the goofy smile that made everyone he passed in the halls give him a concerned sideways stare.

BB-8 whirled up beside him, keeping pace with Poe as he strode to his quarters with a noticeable spring in his step.

“I dunno, BB,” he told the droid, shucking off his own clothes (which, right, he _had_ slept in those…maybe Hux had been on to something). BB-8 swiveled around, politely looking away as he finished undressing and headed towards the refresher. “I really like him.”

_Hux!Friend (pres)=be prisoner continuous (dec)_

Poe stepped into the shower, raising his voice to be heard over the water.

“C’mon, he’s _barely_ a prisoner. You heard Leia. What kind of prisoner has free run of the base?”

BB-8 chirped.

“Exactly!” Poe scrubbed at his hair. “You know, we never would’ve known about the Sith fleet in time to stop them if it weren’t for him. Technically, he saved the galaxy.” People didn’t talk about it much, but Poe figured that was why no one had come forward demanding they hand over Hux so he could stand trial for the Hosnian Cataclysm. Easier to just ignore him now that he was toothless rather than parade him in front of the galaxy only for his representative to point out that they all technically owed him their lives.

“Besides, he’s just… _different._ ” Poe finished rinsing off and stepped out of the shower, grabbing a towel and rubbing it through his hair before tucking it around his waist. He leaned against the doorway for a moment, eyes glazing over a bit and a fond smile taking over his face. “I’ve never met anyone like him. If people just gave him a chance I think they’d warm up to him.”

He was thinking of Finn and a few of his other friends. Poe couldn’t help imagining bringing Hux to their get-togethers, the two of them lounging on the couch together as their friends played sabacc and holochess. He’d wrap his arm around Hux and Hux would lean into him, and they’d whisper little commentaries to each other, laughing at jokes that no one else would understand.

He just wanted to open up every part of his life and find a way to fit Hux into it.

Unfortunately, there were some things in his life that had no room for Hux—like his job. Just as he was finished getting dressed, his comlink chimed.

“Kriff,” he swore under his breath as he read the new assignment, raking a hand through his hair. Escort fighters needed for a diplomatic mission, suspected pirate activity in the area, possibility for engagement with First Order remnant forces…

Poe should be excited. He loved his job and this kind of assignment was practically ideal: important, exciting, the chance to see some action while still making it back to base either that night or early the next morning. But now it felt like something was being taken away from him.

He’d _just_ gotten Hux to open up to him the tiniest bit and now he was being sent away? Poe had _plans._ Plans that involved things like slowly stripping away Hux’s defenses, kiss by kiss.

He was being punished. The galaxy was punishing him. He said as much to BB-8 while pulling on his flight suit; the droid said he was being dramatic.

“I’m not being dramatic!”

BB-8 beeped again.

“And I’m not being _clingy_ , either.”

On his way to the hangar, he made sure to swing by Hux’s quarters.

Hux must only have the one uniform, Poe realized, as now the man was dressed in the earth tones of cobbled-together Resistance garb rather than his sleek black uniform. Poe was arrested in the doorway by the sight. The clothes were too big for him, the long shirt sleeves rolled up into cuffs at his wrists, the collar too wide—showing a positively scandalous (by First Order standards) swath of pale shoulder, the hint of his collarbone peeking out.

Hux looked _soft_. It was adorable.

There was a glint of something metallic against his skin, and Poe cocked his head. Hux was wearing a chain of some kind? Poe’s thoughts went to his own necklace, that held his mother’s ring. He didn’t know Hux wore anything like that, but he supposed he hadn’t seen Hux out of his uniform yet—and that starched black tunic would keep anything underneath snug and hidden against his chest.

Poe cleared his throat and the other man looked up from his datapad. He saw Hux take in the flight suit and bag slung casually over his shoulder with a single flick of his eyes. Was that a flash of disappointment?

“You’re leaving.”

“Yep. Boss says we’ve got some dignitaries heading into sketchy territory need backup.”

“What ‘boss’? I thought you were a general.” Hux turned to the datapad and flicked his finger across the screen.

Poe shrugged uncomfortably, setting the bag down and crossing his arms.

“Not anymore.” He scratched at the back of his head. “War’s over and all and so I sort of—stepped down?”

Hux shot him a sharp look.

“ _Why?_ ”

“I like being a pilot. I didn’t want anything to do with all that diplomatic kriff. It’s a headache. Too complex. I like to point and shoot, fly fast, grab a drink with my buddies at the end of the day. And if things calm down even more then I’ll probably muster out, eventually.”

“ _Poe._ That is the most asinine thing I have ever heard. You don’t simply— _give up_ command once you’ve got it.” Hux was looking at him like he was truly concerned for Poe’s mental faculties. Poe grinned.

“Not everyone’s like you, buddy. I guess you thought you’d serve the First Order til you died?”

Hux grimaced, but nodded.

“Well, that’s not me.” Poe shrugged again, picked up his bag and walked over to put a hand on Hux’s shoulder. He bent down and kissed Hux’s forehead, smiling at the other man’s surprised little grunt. “I probably won’t see you until tomorrow. You gonna be okay?” Poe stopped himself on the edge of telling Hux to take a walk outside that afternoon, realizing that without him there Hux would need to find someone else to escort him outside of the compound, and that seemed unlikely.

That was a problem. If Poe was going away on missions, who was going to take care of Hux?

Meanwhile, Hux just scoffed.

“I do not _depend_ on you for my continued existence.” He took the bite out of his words by catching hold of Poe’s hand and squeezing it briefly. “Believe me, I can survive without you, _former_ General Poe Dameron.”

Poe smiled and stepped back—then looked down at his hand in surprise as Hux held on.

“That being said—stay safe, and do come back.”

Hux cleared his throat as he dropped Poe’s hand, and turned back to his datapad. He didn’t look up again as Poe left his quarters, but that didn’t hide the dark blush coloring his cheeks.

*

For the rest of the morning and well on into the afternoon, Hux attended to his work. He found himself distracted occasionally by the imperfect fit of his borrowed clothes, tugging his shirt this way and that to get it to lay properly. Something about the way the collar swung loose about his neck, the rough line of the seam brushing at the base of his throat, made him deeply uncomfortably. He longed for the perfect, solid press of his uniform collar, but of course in the tumultuous aftermath of halting the execution of Dameron and FN-2187 and the Wookie, he hadn’t exactly had time to pack a bag and so the only uniform he owned was currently being laundered.

And every time it came out of the Resistance’s shoddy facilities it was a little rougher, a little more rumpled. The inky black had even started to _fade_ in places. Hux frowned as he considered it, his hands stilling over the plans and scattered, half-disassembled devices.

His uniform, the only thing he had to show for a lifetime of service to the Order, was slowly fading from its perfection into something unrecognizable, and he could do nothing to stop it.

He scrubbed a hand across his eyes. No use getting overly-sentimental about a bit of fabric. These clothes would do; any would do. He was alive. That was all that mattered.

He reached in to his shirt and pulled out his dog tags, letting them lay over the fabric. He rubbed his thumb over them absentmindedly, taking comfort in their solidity, their familiarity as he tried to return his thoughts to his work.

Finally, feeling a bit cramped, Hux stood and stretched and checked the time—eyebrows lifting in faint surprise at the late hour. He should probably see to getting himself some dinner, as he’d skipped lunch and had only managed a few bites of fruit that morning—most from Dameron’s hand. He smiled briefly at the memory, shaking his head at himself.

No wonder Dameron thought he was somehow vital to Hux’s functioning, when he had literally been eating out of the man’s hands only hours before.

As Hux stepped out of his quarters for the first time that day, he couldn’t help the suspicious sweep of his gaze down both directions of the corridor. He felt a significant pull to stay inside. There, he knew exactly what to expect, exactly what would happen. Out here…well. He’d experienced more than one attack of panic since coming to this base. What if it happened out here? What if he couldn’t conceal himself in his room, what if someone _saw?_

The thought arrested him in the doorway.

He tried to think his way around it: if he started to feel panic coming on, he would simply retreat back to his quarters. It was unlikely that any Resistance member other than Dameron would speak to him unless directed to. He could leave, get a dinner tray, and be back in less than ten minutes. He could go ten minutes without panicking, he’d done that hundreds of times over already that day.

But what if he started to panic _now?_ His breathing rate had increased; he felt a slight tremble in his hands.

_This is absurd_ , he thought. He’d stared death in the face numerous times. He’d tolerated Ren’s abuse, even the terrifying presence of Snoke, who could reach across untold distances to smack him down. This was nothing. This was _walking across the base to get food._

Why couldn’t he do this? Something was deeply wrong with him. This was intolerable, this was—weakness, _deficiency_ , madness even. Oh, wouldn’t Brendol have loved to see this—he’d held Hux to impossible standards and seemed to hate it even more when Hux succeeded than when he proved his father right through failure. And this—this was failure, the basest, most complete sort.

Hux’s breath seemed to hiccup in his chest.

He slid back into his quarters, having gone no farther than a step beyond the threshold. The door sealed shut behind him and he let out a long breath, attempting to disentangle his thoughts from their tightening spiral of shame and distress. He wasn’t hungry anyway, he told himself—and it was mostly true, with anxiety roiling in his gut.

As he sat back down at the workbench, picking up the disassembled hardware and struggling to remember how it fit together, he thought bitterly about General Organa’s redesignation of his status on base, from prisoner to something more akin to a guest. Perhaps she’d known all along what a coward he was, and that he would imprison himself.

In the small hours of the morning, Hux grew tired enough to retreat to his bed. He hadn’t made much headway with his work, anyway, but as he laid down and instructed the lights to dim he found that with nothing to occupy his hands, he was assaulted by his thoughts.

He turned towards the wall and drew his legs up, nearly to his chest. The damn shirt was bothering him again, and Hux fidgeted, pulling at the collar, attempting to stretch it even further so it wouldn’t lay across his neck. The fabric felt horribly rough against his skin and the sensation took over his attention, pushing to the front of his mind again and again.

He couldn’t take it. Breath short, Hux stood abruptly and tore off the shirt, flinging it across the room. He stripped out of his pants as well and then climbed under the blanket, wrapping his arms around himself, fist tight around his dog tags. The room was cold, the blanket just shy of thick enough for comfort, and he did not enjoy sleeping in nothing but his underwear but it was still marginally better than the confining, foreign clothes.

He wanted his uniform back. His uniform, which was slowly becoming foreign to him, like everything else here outside the Order. _Stars_ , he was pathetic. His eyes stung and he rubbed the heel of his hand in them, trying to will himself to stoicism. This was his lot in life. He’d _chosen_ this. He’d destroyed the Order. Because of him, it was gone.

What was it Poe had said?

_I guess you thought you’d serve the First Order til you died?_

In the suffocating dark, anxiety gripped his chest, and Hux let out a sob muffled by his hand. What had he _done?_ It was all gone, and instead of having any say in what happened now he was here, a pet engineer working on piddling devices, hiding in his quarters. Alone and unmoored. What was happening to the stormtroopers? His officers? The fleet?

There must have been something else he could’ve done. Hux remembered feeling so certain about his decision—the feeling of the floor being ripped out from under him when it was revealed that the Order was nothing more than the Empire in disguise, puppetted by the same sick master all those years. He’d always treated his stormtroopers like they were expendable because they were dying for a _cause._ To learn that all of them had worked and toiled and suffered and died for a sham, a thinly veiled power grab by the same crusty old Sith that had ruined the Republic and the Empire, it had been…intolerable.

What else could he have done? There must have been something. Hux thought about it until the lights came up automatically at morning, feeling taut and wrung-out, sleepless and with a gnawing hunger in his belly that he was too cowardly to satiate. He thought of how much easier this would be with Poe at his side.

Poe had been right. Hux was helpless without him.

He was awakened around noon by the door chime.

Hux didn’t remember falling asleep, but he must have at some point. He blinked blearily at the too-bright lights, his limbs stiff as he forced himself into a sitting position. The blanket slid off of his bare chest, reminding him of his shameful panic during the night. He’d ripped his clothes off like some kind of animal.

Scoffing at himself, Hux stood and sought out his shirt as the door chimed again. He knew it was Poe, and excitement fluttered in his stomach at seeing the other man again, but first thing was first, he had to get dressed. As he bent to pick up his clothes a wave of lightheadedness briefly overcame him. He braced his hand against the bed, blinking until his vision cleared, and when it did he quickly scooped up the clothes and pulled them on.

The door had chimed a third time by the time Hux made it over and pressed the button to let Poe in.

The pilot swept into the room and immediately threw his arms around Hux in a hug that nearly lifted him off his feet, despite their difference in height. Some sort of tight pressure deep within his chest released, and relief washed over Hux as he let himself experience the enthusiastic, caring touch.

“Your mission was a success, I take it?”

“What?” Poe chuckled as he stepped back, leaving his hands on Hux’s hips. “Oh, yeah. Sure. Of course it was a success, I was on it.” He winked. “But that’s not why I’m happy. I had a talk with Leia.”

“Oh?”

“Yep. I told her you needed a vacation.”

“ _What?_ ” Hux couldn’t help it; his voice _squawked._ An instant, cold douse of anxiety left him nearly breathless. It must have showed on his face, because Poe’s smile disappeared, and his grip tightened on Hux’s sides.

“Easy, Hugs. Hear me out.”

“No,” Hux shook his head, stepping out of Poe’s reach. “No, you’ll undo this this instant, Poe Dameron. Call your general and tell her you made a critical error in judgment, surely she won’t be surprised at that.” The thought that Poe had put Hux’s _weakness_ so flagrantly on display for his captor was the stuff of nightmares. Hux felt his chest tightening, and he had to grip his own arms to keep his hands from shaking. Organa would think he was lazy, trying to weasel out of their agreement, she would discover that he was _useless_ and his life would be forfeit. It was all over, the whole charade, he would be marched off to some dank cell as punishment for the absolute _gall_ it must take for someone in his position to demand a vacation—a vacation!

Hux must have blacked out for a moment, because the next thing he knew he was sitting on the bed with Poe beside him, rubbing his hands.

“This is what I mean, Hux,” he was saying, and Hux blinked and attempted to focus on Poe’s voice. “You’re wound up so tight, you just go to pieces at the smallest thing.”

“It’s not small,” he said weakly. His head was pounding, his stomach pinched up tight with nearly two days’ unsated hunger. He squeezed his eyes shut, struggling to pull his thoughts together. “Please don’t speak for me to your superior. I need—I need to be able to control her perception of me. It’s all I have.”

“You’re right.” Poe was still rubbing maddening little circles on the backs of his hands and Hux had to steel himself not to pull away. The touch was more jarring than comforting at the moment—it felt like every nerve in his body was hypersensitive and alert—but he let Poe do it anyway because he was terrified that if he made things too difficult, Poe would leave him. He didn’t want that. “I didn’t say that right and I’m sorry. What I told Leia, really, was that _I_ wanted some leave time. When she asked why, I said that I wanted to get to know you better, and that for now I’m also the only person available who can make sure you take daily walks outside the compound. We agreed that would be good for you. You’re not a prisoner anymore, Hux. Your health is important, and Leia agreed that for the moment that means I should be available to help you…adjust.”

Hux nodded along as Poe spoke. It was all distasteful, but still marginally better than what Hux had assumed from Poe’s misleading opening statement.

“You all think I’m weak.” He finally pulled one hand out of Poe’s grasp so he could support his head, which suddenly felt too heavy. “You’re not wrong.”

“Having basic human needs is not _weakness._ Kriff, Hugs, I didn’t mean to get so serious this morning.” He rubbed Hux’s shoulder. “I’m happy to see you.”

Hux sighed.

“And I, you.” His face still covered with one hand, he fumbled for Poe’s hands with the other, grabbing one and giving it a little tug. “The seriousness is entirely my fault, of course.” He lifted his head to give Poe a weak smile. “I’m afraid you’ll find I have very little sense of humor, and I don’t react to surprising news with as much…resilience, as I once did.”

“No, don’t apologize.” Poe reached out and stroked Hux’s jaw and the touch was soothing, wonderful. “I should’ve known how out of control that would make you feel.” It was then that Poe seemed to notice Hux’s ruffled appearance. He gestured to the clothes—the same ones he’d seen Hux wearing the day before—and his bare feet, gaze sliding to his uncombed hair. “Rough night?”

“I got caught up in my work,” Hux lied.

“Uh-huh. You eat breakfast?”

“Yes.” Another lie. Poe gave him a level look.

“I’m choosing to believe you right now, Hugs. Because I know there’s no reason you’d lie to me about simple stuff like this, right?”

When Hux said nothing more, Poe sighed and cracked a smile.

“Alright. Want to go for a walk?”

“Yes.” He wasn’t going to disappoint Poe any further. Hux was determined to put his bad night’s sleep, the gnawing anxiety at—well, everything—behind him for now so that he could simply enjoy Poe’s presence. He stood and pulled on his boots, then went to the refresher to brush his teeth and comb his hair. While he was in there he bent over the sink and quickly gulped a few handfuls of water. His canteen had run out yesterday, and he hadn’t been able to leave his room yet to refill it. After splashing water on his face he started to feel marginally more like himself.

When they were ready to leave he went to grab his greatcoat, but Poe stopped him.

“Maybe leave it behind today?” He suggested lightly, putting a hand on Hux’s arm. “You look good like this, like one of us.”

Hux looked down at his shoddy clothes that fit him so poorly. He gave a defeated little shrug.

“As you wish.”

Approaching the door, he began to worry that he would experience the same problem he had yesterday—but with Poe at his side, it was embarrassingly easy to cross the threshold. There were no alarms blaring in his head, no fears clutching at his throat. He saw Poe’s easy smile, his dark eyes and his lovely curls, and simply followed the only good thing he’d ever known.

He thought of asking Poe if they could go to the mess hall. He had yet to eat anything today; the day before, it had been only the few pieces of fruit he’d shared during breakfast with Poe. He struggled to remember if he’d eaten the day before _that_ ; he thought maybe he’d had a few bites of his lunch.

If he had discovered one of his officers were displaying such an appalling lack of self-care, he’d take immediate measures to correct it. But, as it was, Hux held himself to higher standards of performance under stressful conditions. And anyway, he’d already lied to Poe and told him he’d had breakfast. So Hux banished the thought from his mind, ignoring the nagging sensation in his stomach and putting his shoulders back in an effort to stop the trembling in his limbs.

Poe’s laughter distracted him. Hux turned to him as they reached the exit, giving him a quizzical smile.

“You walk like a general of the First Order.”

“Is that so?” Hux’s smile turned indulgent as the door opened and the two stepped out into the muggy heat of Ajan Kloss. The sun instantly blinded him and he stood still, blinking steadily until his eyes adjusted. The heat was like a heavy blanket wrapped around his head and drawn tight over his mouth and nose; it was exceedingly unpleasant, and Hux had to push down a stab of panic at the suffocating sensation.

“Yeah. I like it, though.” Poe seemed unaffected by the heat. He took hold of one of Hux’s hands with a questioning tilt to his brow, and Hux flashed him a quick smile and nod. Sweat was already sliding down his face and he found he couldn’t catch his breath unless he breathed in through his mouth. He tried to do so as inconspicuously as possible, as he and Poe began to walk hand-in-hand.

“Good.” Hux wasn’t sure if he was making any sense. He struggled to keep hold of the thread of their conversation, as it took every effort to put one foot gracefully in front of the other. They began to make their slow circuit of the base, like they had two days before—only BB-8 wasn’t with them, and they were holding hands. Hux wondered how Poe had done it. Before meeting Poe, Hux would never have imagined himself participating in such casual intimacy, but it felt good. It felt right, and he wanted more of it.

“Hux? Did you hear me?”

“What?” He struggled to focus on Poe.

“I said that I think we should go on a trip. You’re allowed to go anywhere on the planet, as long as I’m with you, remember? There are some beaches not too far from here. I was thinking maybe we’d leave tomorrow morning and spend the day relaxing in the sand. Go for a swim.”

Hux blinked. His head felt like it was full of wool, and he wasn’t certain he was comprehending all of what Poe said. He could only come up with a response to the last part.

“I don’t know how to swim.”

“What! Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously.” Hux swallowed. His mouth was filling with saliva, excessively so, and he had to swallow again before speaking. “I was raised on a Star Destroyer, Dameron. What did you expect?”

“Huh.” Poe didn’t seem angry, for which Hux was grateful. He wasn’t certain he could deal with that at the moment, not with the sun beating down so relentlessly on his brow. His head was pounding again, the pain solidifying into a sharp point in the middle of his forehead. All he could think about was the cool darkness of his quarters, and how much he’d like a drink of water. Or maybe some more of that fruit Poe had fed him, what felt like a thousand years ago. He let his eyes fall shut, unable to take the brightness anymore.

“Hux? You okay?”

“It’s hot,” he said. He knew he was swaying, his sense of equilibrium failing him. Up and down seemed to switch places; suddenly, he was tumbling forward.

“Kriff!” Strong hands caught him on his upper arms, bracing him as he struggled to keep his feet beneath him, but his legs were shaking hard now. Lightheadedness made it difficult to think and even harder to speak, but Hux managed to mumble an apology.

“I’m sorry.” His voice was thick and as clumsy as the rest of him. “I need to sit.” He was already sinking to the ground, Poe’s embrace keeping him from falling too quickly. His limbs were like jelly and his heart beat too fast, blood roaring in his ears. He knew Poe was saying his name, though it sounded like it was coming from very far away, and he couldn’t think of a response.

Then Poe was moving him around so that his hands were braced against his thighs, pushing gently on the back of his neck until his head was positioned between his knees. It felt marginally better, but the sun was still beating down on his back, and the duracrete beneath him was so hot he could feel it through his trousers. Hux groaned.

“It’s okay.” Poe was rubbing his back, up and down along his spine. “Someone is coming to help.”

“What?” Hux managed, lifting his head a fraction. “No, I’m—I’m fine.”

“Hugs. You almost fainted. And I know it wasn’t just from the heat so believe me, we’re going to have a _long_ talk once you’re feeling better. But for now we gotta get you out of the sun.”

Hux could hear distant footsteps coming closer. He jerked his head up in alarm that anyone other than Poe should see him like this, but the motion was too quick. It sent his head spinning, so he bent forward again to keep from losing his balance.

“Don’t—” he muttered, hearing voices around him, not knowing who they were, what their intentions were for him. “Don’t let them—”

Something scraped on the duracrete ground beside him. Poe’s hands were around his torso, lifting him briefly and depositing him a few inches to the right. Then one hand was on the back of Hux’s neck, the other on his chest as Poe gently coaxed him back.

His vision tunneling, Hux’s body startled at the sensation of tipping back into the abyss. Only Poe’s hands grounded him as they guided him down. Hux hissed as his head tipped back and the harsh sunlight struck his eyes, igniting a stab of pain in his skull. Even through closed eyelids, the light was an angry, searing red. Then the hand on his chest moved and a calm darkness fell over him as Poe laid a protective hand over his eyes.

That was all he knew for some time. He never lost consciousness completely, but everything was a wash of unintelligible sounds, odd rocking sensations that made his stomach pitch, and an ever-tightening spiral of anxiety as his instincts screamed that he was helpless in the hands of the enemy.

When he became properly aware again, he knew by virtue of logic that he must be in what passed for their medbay. There was an IV in his arm, and some sort of monitoring device attached to his finger. The lights were dim. Poe was stroking his hair.

Hux wanted to relax into the touch, but his heart started beating furiously again. He was able to think, with a sort of clinical detachment, that it was odd to feel a fear response when he could pinpoint no one thing he was afraid of. He supposed it was all of it. Just, everything. He inhaled shallowly, feeling like the air didn’t quite reach his lungs.

“Shhh, Hugs. You’re okay.”

Poe laid a hand over his eyes again, like he had outside the compound. He also placed a hand directly in the center of Hux’s chest, over his sternum, and pressed down a bit. Hux let out a shuddering breath. The pressure felt nice, like being contained when he was ready to fly apart.

“You need to take deep breaths,” Poe murmured, his voice low and soothing. “I’m gonna count for you, alright? Go ahead and inhale for one, two, three, four, five…and exhale, five, four, three, two, one…inhale—“

Hux felt a bit ridiculous. He could breathe on his own, and he wasn’t a child—he didn’t need comfort, he was responsible for his own shortcomings and it was embarrassing to have them on display. Those thoughts faded as he found himself falling in to the rhythm Poe set, and after several rounds he felt the ever-present pressure in his chest loosening. He relaxed, tension leaving him as he sank into the bed, and kept up the deep, slow breaths even after Poe’s counting faded off.

“You’re doing great, Armitage. Can I call you that?”

“Call me whatever you like,” Hux said. “Do whatever you want. As long as it’s you doing it, I can’t imagine I’ll care.”

Poe chuckled, hand going back to his hair.

“Don’t be like that, Hugs. You get a say in all this. Just cuz you like some things I do doesn’t mean you can’t say no to others.” He kissed Hux’s forehead, and Hux finally opened his eyes, blinking even in the dim light of the room. He was relieved to see that they were alone. “You know, you really scared me out there.”

“I’m sorry.”

“S’okay. Doc says you’re in pretty rough shape, though. Dehydrated, low blood pressure and sugar…Are you gonna tell me what’s going on?”

“I’ve been having some…difficulties.” He debated how much to tell Poe, his cheeks already going hot with embarrassment. In the end he sighed and admitted, “It is very difficult for me to eat properly when I’m stressed. And yesterday, I…it’s silly.”

“No, go on. It’s not silly, I promise.”

“I was—not able—“ he wouldn’t say _afraid,_ even though that was the truth—“to leave my room.”

Poe’s hand stilled in his hair.

“What do you mean? Did someone—“

“No, it wasn’t anything that happened, it was just—me. I became overly-worried that I would have another of these—episodes. In public. It was enough to dissuade me from leaving.”

“Hmm. So you felt okay leaving today because—?”

Stars, did he really have to say it?

“Because I was with you,” Hux said quietly. He chanced a glance up at Poe and the other man had a myriad of emotions on display. Worry, contemplation, surprise—and a begrudging little smile, that was also sort of sad.

“I’m flattered, Hux.” Poe shifted in his seat, then gave Hux’s side a little nudge. “Can I get in with you?”

“Of course.” Hux scooted over in the bed, Poe helping him to keep the IV line and monitor cord straight. Then he slid in, immediately conforming the shape of his body to Hux’s, and Hux breathed out a contented sigh. His head came to rest on Poe’s shoulder, and Poe’s hand went back to stroking his hair. Hux tucked his chin in to his chest, presenting the top of his head to Poe’s attentions, reveling in the oddly pleasing sensation of being pet like he was some small, domesticated animal.

“I’m so glad that you feel safe with me,” Poe whispered. Hux made a small sound of agreement. “But…we gotta get you to a point where you feel safe without me, too.”

“Regrettably, that might take some time.” Hux stroked his fingers over Poe’s chest, with the limited range of movement he had without pulling on any of the lines attached to him. “You are without contest the kindest person I have ever met, and I’m quite convinced you are singular in the distinction.”

“There’s other kind people here. I’m not gonna lie, you’re making me feel pretty good right now,” he chuckled, “but this isn’t about me. I _do_ have an idea though, if you want to hear it.”

“Yes, anything.” Hux’s eyelids were heavy, and he nuzzled in to Poe’s chest. Whatever was in the IV was making him feel marginally better, Poe was very warm and soft, and the lack of sleep was catching up with him.

“If you’re feeling up for it by dinner tonight, let’s eat with my friends. Finn and Rose.”

Hux started to laugh.

“You do know I ordered their execution? To their faces?”

“C’mon, you can’t let a little thing like that stop you.” He could hear the wink in Poe’s voice.

Hux tried to muster up some indignation, but in the end just shrugged. He wasn’t sure how it would help, but he was willing to do it simply because Poe wanted him to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, thank you for reading! Let's have a little chat.
> 
> I'm sorry that I abandoned this fic for a few months. I think I just left it so wide open that I had a hard time deciding where I wanted to go with it. Every time I tried to write the next chapter I felt like it had lost a bit of the magic of this fic. But, I'd rather have a shoddy ending than leave a work incomplete. There should be two more chapters ahead of us, and then I can finally wrap up what was supposed to be a teensy little soft plotless fic. I want to give you all closure, so I'm here to the end. Hopefully you'll like where we're headed. <3


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